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X 




W. A. ENGLE, M. D. 



La Fold and Euridice 



21 poem 



IN TWENTY-TWO BOOKS OR CANTOS 



EMBRACING 



Many Common and Tragic 
Scenes of Life 



r' JUL 28 1893' 

By Washington A; Engle, M. D. ' 



/ 



Hartford, Mich. 

AUTHOR OF "THE THREE BEAUTIES," AND 
"MVSTERV OF MYSTERIES." 






Copyright 1893, by W. A. Engle, M. D 



LA FOLD AND EURIDICE, 

THE 

WORK OF MY MIND, 

I DEDICATE TO EMILY D. ENGLE, 

MY WIFE, 

AND 

WOMAN OF MY HEART. 



PPvELUDE. 



O HOW strange is the lot of all humankind, 

And stranger the workings of soul ! 
Our affections most strange and foolishly blind, 

And o'er them we have no control. 

God breathes on our souls, and we move, and we live. 
While holding communion by prayer ; 

He will all our sins and transgressions forgive. 
And will break every cloud of despair. 

When scourg'd by afflictions, the tempests of life. 

And we call on him in distress. 
He will lighten our wrongs, and conquer in strife. 

And quickly relieve us, and bless. 

Though earth and its forces combined seem oppos'd, 

And whisper adverse things to us. 
If we earnestly ask, and are rightly disposed, 

In God we safely can trust. 

From among the mix'd scenes of this busy earth, 

He will bring out whatever we need, 
And blendingthe worthless with those of great worth, 

A blessing to us thej^ will read. 

[5] 



6 PRELUDE, 

From the smallest events great things will come forth 
When mov'd by the God-given power ; 

And people will come from the South and the North, 
To fill the fix'd place and the hour. 

We, directed by him, our destinies fill. 
Which are shapened by him as we pray ; 

For such he has said is his consummate will. 
To lead us from darkness to day. 

How attachments most strange do bind two as one, 

We never the mystery can solve ; 
And all we can say is, The Lord's will be done, 

Which doth each enigma evolve. 




Pensive stands Euridiee with listeuiuo; ear. 



[ See page 7.J 



LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 



CANTO I. 



This poem opens with Euridice waiting on the appointed spot, 
to meet La Fold on a beautiful evening of early summer, at whicli 
he fails to be present, for some reason unknown to her. Her 
position and anxiety of mind while waiting and looking for him. 
She soliloquizes in regard to the matter. Bends her steps home- 
ward, while she debates in her mind the cause of his absence. 
While so doing, she enters her silent room, which she paces in a 
discontented manner, wringing her hands and crying. She retires 
to rest, but sleep flies from her eyes, while she tries to imagine the 
cause of his absence. She falls into a fitful sleep, and dreams a 
curious dream, and awakens in fright and thinks about its inter- 
pretation. The dawn of morning makes her still more wretched 
than ever, where this canto leaves her. 

Pensive stands Euridice, with listening ear 

To know if any steps approach. While here, 

The gentle zephyrs phijful kiss around ; 

She breathes a sigh from her sore heart unbound. 

These zephyrs bear it off on merry wing, 

And mix it with the voices of the spring. 

Again slie listens, and again she sighs. 

Then rolls inquiringly around her eyes, 

From which bright beauties leap without control — 

The very off'rings of her inmost soul. 

['1 



O LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Soft evening's twilight, with a gentle power, 
Is mantling earth, and sealing eveiy flower, 
With niistv veil the distant hills conceals. 
And settling down, is darkening all the fields. 

She gazes forth, straining her utmost view. 
Through thickening night and the descending dew. 
For one engaged to meet her on this spot ; 
But night approaches, and this person, not. 

Without^ all nature seems in perfect rest, 
Within, the storms of care distract her breast, 
Here, hopes dejected frown, and cyclones groan, 
TJiere, green earth smiles, and perfect peace is known 

The moon, just rising o'er the eastern height, 
Sheds over earth a pale and silvery light ; 
And paints each object with extended shade. 
Likewise the noble form of this fair maid ; 
While trouble's ocean, with a swelling tide, 
Her bosom more than fiU'd, and thus she sigh'd, — 

"O guardian Spirit, hovering from above. 
Why should I be the sport and mock of love. 
And like a helmless ship upon the sea. 
The waves of passion beating on poor me ? 
'Gainst them in vain must I forever strive, 
Driven by winds where'er they chance to drive, 
Borne on in every way, now here, now there, 
•Now by alluring hope, now by despair ? 



CANTO I. y 

" To-day, perhaps, my skies with pleasure smile. 
The sea of rising thoughts as calm, meanwhile. 
Doth mirror forth the countless gems which shine 
High in the concave of the pondering mind ; 
Then turns, storms rise and darken in the air. 
And disappointments whirPd by furious care 
Break up the peaceful waters of this sea, 
While groaning whirlwinds sweep about poor me. 

"Then one deep gloom encompasses the soul, 

And deepest night seems stretcli'd from pole to pole, 

Portentous of a near impending close. 

When death shall swallow up the last repose. 

"And then, perhaps, some dawning hope may smile 

And lift the gloom, though little be the while ; 

And then again some stormy woe may pour 

Into my bosom its unceasing roar ; 

Thus am I tossed about on life's strange sea, 

And from tempestuous cares am never free. 

"O clouds of sweet imaginary bliss, 

For which we so much yearn, but yearn amiss. 

Pour down a copious shower of joys unknown 

Into my thirsty soul, now making moan. 

And water every longing fiber there. 

That peace may bud, and banish cankering care. 

"O send to me that youth for whom I grieve. 
Who promised here to meet me on this eve ; 



10 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

" Or tell me where his wand'ring footsteps stray, 

And why they tread not tlie appointed way. 

Teach him to feel all he assumes to feel, 

To consecrated love his bosom seal, 

And O, to brighter glow my hopes renew, 

And those hopes realized, his love prov'd true." 

She ceas'd to speak and breathed another sigh ; 

Then, seeming, fixed her gaze upon the sky ; 

There, smiled a thousand watchers of the night, 

Waving to earth those smiles of holy light ; 

And yet she knew it not ; but seemed to be 

All lost, and gazing upon vacancy, 

Unconscious of the beauties there, which smilM, 

So firm her mind was fixed on that frail child. 

Who had her feelings wrought to that degree, 

That in nought else she could a beauty see ; 

Round him her thoughts were clung, her heart entwin'd, 

As round the oak the tender, curling vine ; 

To him her soul-confiding love was given. 

His frowns, her hell ; his smiles, her little heaven. 

The hours stole on, and with them stole despair 
Upon her heart, like death's cold shadows there. 

Homeward she bends her steps, voiceless and mute. 
But inward doubts are holding hot dispute ; 
And now she deems him fickle, false, and vain, 
Then thinks that cannot be, he '11 come again. 
Thus chasing one another, hope and gloom 
Through her sick soul, she found her silent room, 



CANTO I. 11 

Her spirit overcome ; in floods of tears 

She weeps o'er disappointment, and her fears 

Curtain with doubt the past and coming years. 

Tliought, busy thought, with ever-searcliing eye 

About his absence often questions, Why ? 

Thus toss'd by doubt, sigh quick succeeds to sigh. 

She many answers and excuses frames, 

But none give satisfaction, all are lame. 

A restless discontent swims in her eyes, 

She walks the carpet, wrings her hands, and cries. 

She seeks her couch, but from her eyes flies sleep ; 
Within her bosom rolls an ocean deep 
Of restless woe, roiled up with grief and care, 
Expels each hope and ushers in despair. 

From side to side she turns and seeks for rest, 
But still that sea is rolling in her breast. 
And many streamlets full of silent woe 
Fill up her fount of tears to overflow. 

Wearied with doubt, and overcome with grief. 
The powers of Morpheus bring her short relief ; 
By pouring in her breast consoling streams, 
Which bear her mind into the land of dreams. 
She dreams that she is seated on the ground. 
Amid fair flowers, while pleasures dance around 
Like heavenly cherubs from the upper deep, 
To guard her here, and joyful vigils keep. 
The pleasing things of life about her swarm. 



12 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And friends with kindly smiles and bosoms warm ; 
When lo ! among them in her presence came 
A youth, and fixed on her an eye of flame. 
Her guileless soul was dazzled by the light, 
His smiles recalPd and fixed her wondering sicrht. 
Four brilliant orbs on one another shone 
Expressive of devotion all their own, — 
Devotion to us mortals seldom known. 

He pluck'd the fairest flower which clustered there, 

And placed it in her hand with gentle care ; 

Then smiling from his soul, he softly said, 

"To me this is your emblem, heavenly maid." 

And then retired with meditative mein, 

As though love ruled each inward thought and scene. 

No sooner gone than to her lips she pressed 
The lovely flower, and called its beauties blest, 
And in unnumbered ways gently caress'd ; 
Again its textures by her lips were felt 
Whose sweet perfumes upon her senses dwelt. 
A transient joy stole through her secret soul, 
And left its footprints on the vital goal ; 
Again this lovely flower she warmly eyed, 
And to herself, admiring, softly sighed, — 

"To him my emblem. O those words, how rare ! 
Would that I were as innocent and fair.'' 
Again she press'd the flower, a precious thing, 
Unto her lips, and felt a smarting sting ; 



CANTO I. 13 

Forced from her mouth a k)ud and fitful scream, 

Then woke, affrighted, from her curious dream, 

Which like a real thing to her did seem ; 

But wakening, pondered on this vision fled, 

And thought she almost heard his hasty tread. 

As consciousness came back ; while through her brain 

Some special quizzings of its meaning came, 

And strange conjectures chas'd each other 'round. 

But satisfaction was not to be found. 

Now broke upon the world, morn's golden light, 
Chasing away the sable clouds of night, 
Hiding the stars behind a sun-lit veil, 
And bade this maid arise to weep and wail. 

And such is human chas'd by fortune's frown. 
When beauty smiles in everything around ; 
The joys without make deeper woes within. 
As righteousness makes deeper seem our sin. 
Though all things round and nature cry, " Rejoice ! " 
And everywhere is heard sweet music's voice. 
The wretched heart will oftentimes exclaim, 
''These sights but deepen woe and strengthen pain. 
For while all living show life's joy and cheer, 
They tell us that our heart alone is drear." 

So felt this maid, as though the joyous light 
Press'd in her bosom all the shades of night ; 
And when new morn the glorious light unfurl'd, 
She felt as though within her inner world 



14 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

The darkness of that night had gathered there, 

And through that gathered gloom, walked deep despair. 

But let us leave this beauty in her woe, 
Weeping her lover's absence, as we go 
To follow him through all his winding train. 
O'er far-off lands, and o'er the rolling main. 




He stripped his limbs, and naked near the shore 
Was kiss'd by briny billows o'er and o'er. 



[ Sec i);ige 17 



CANTO II. 



Explanation why La Pold was absent from his appointed meet- 
ing with Euridice. The previous morning he visits the sea shore 
to bathe in tlie ocean, where he is made captive by pirates and 
hurried off into unknown waters. The state of his feelings de- 
scribed before and after liis capture. While on the pirate vessel 
he soliloquizes, and deplores his inability to meet his Euridice as 
per agreement. His mind wanders, and this canto leaves him in a 
crazed condition upon the wide ocean. 

The previous morn to that appointed hour, 
To meet his Em-idice of charming power, 
The prospects of La Pold were full of hope, 
Which in his bosom had an ample scope. 

But oft when joy is at its fullest flow, 
And we seem drinking happiness below. 
The gods, as if they envied us our state. 
Spread o'er our glorious path the snares of fate ; 
And, disappointed, drag us bleeding, blind. 
In spirits gloom'd, distracted in our minds. 
Upon the verge of dire misfortune toss'd. 
To mourn our fond anticipations lost. 
So with our hero, bless'd by powers above, 
Basked in the sunshine of the purest love. 
And dream'd of fairer, brighter days to come, 

[15] 



16 LA FOLD AND ECKIDICE. 

A lovely wife, queen of a lovely home. 
But sad misfortune, proud of conscious power, 
Snatcird all these dreams away in one short hour, 
And bore him captive o'er the heaving sea, 
Hopeless of freedom, sighing to be free. 

For on that morn, ere scarce the break of day 
In seas of light had hid the stars away. 
He rose, yet longing for the day's decline. 
And sought to bathe himself in ocean's brine ; 
For this he came unto the sandy shore 
Where land and sea commune forevermore, 
KissM by the murmuring wavelets o'er and o'er — 
Where corals white, and shells, and gems, and pearls 
Shine as the heavens shine with thronging worlds — 
Where grand sublimity itself unfurls. 

Each object here feasted his wondering sight, 

And all he shap'd to suit a strange delight. 

And much he coupled by those laws divine 

Which in sweet wedlock man and wife entwine. 

The birds in couples sang from every tree, 

The tiny fish thus sported in the sea ; 

Each shell seem'd by its side to claim a mate, 

Save one which for her bridegroom seem'd to wait. 

And far away in grandeur proud and still 

Each rugged hill embraced its wedded hill. 

And nearer by upon the wave-beat shore. 

Rock clung to rock, as wooing evermore. 

Here ocean and the land seem'd to embrace, 



CANTO II. 17 

And each to kiss in love tlie other's face ; 
And e'en the sky, spread out o'er heaven's steep, 
Saw his fair bride adorned down in the deep ; 
While manj clouds forth issuing from the niglit 
Most willin<i,-ly were woo'd by nioi-ning light, 
And one lone vessel seeming there to glide 
Embi-aced a partner mirror'd in the tide. 

He stripp'd his limbs, and naked near the shore, 
Was kiss'd by briny billows o'er and o'er. 

While thus he lay, close shut his youthful sight, 
Drinking from every wave a strange delight, 
Dreaming each one caresses from his love. 
Which unto him as such, a joy did prove — 
When lo ! he felt a grasp upon his arm 
Which held him in the air ; he screamed alarm, 
Thinking some ocean monster huge and grim 
Had sought to make a morning meal of him. 
But looking down, and forcing from his eyes 
The brackish brine, he saw to his surprise 
A human form with a determin'd face, 
And in each look and movement well could trace 
An offspring of a great and giant race. 
Who now with ease was holding him in space. 
"Unloose your grasp, audacious man," he cried, 
"And learn that law and right are on my side." 
To which this seeming giant thus replied : 
" I care not for the laws of God or man. 
So help yourself, weak youth, as best you can." 
2 



18 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

He spoke while holdiug him high in the air, 

Who for release was vainly struggling there, 

As if he had been but a tiny hare. 

Then plac'd him in his boat, as some small child — 

Leap'd in himself, and on him taunting smiPd. 

That smile, though on a rough, exterior face, 

SliowVl something nobler, deep in its embrace, — 

A soul of greatness, whose mysterious life 

Had strangely been mixed up witli bloody strife, 

Tlio which, though with its I'oughuess touched, yet still 

Held to its loftiness of powei' and will ; 

And being roil'd — like ocean, whirlwind torn, — 

Would toss his foes as ships amid a storm ; 

But being calmVl, like ocean "'s smoother face 

In deeper depths much nobler things could trace, 

As in the deep the picture of the sky 

Wreath'd with the clustering stars which never die. 

While he thus smiFd, our hero's watchful eye 
Search'd deep into that soul. And as a spy 
Survey 'd its outposts, how to take the throne, 
And what way easiest for this purpose known. 
When lo, a gate was open'd to the view 
In these brief words : "• This precious pearl see you, 
Which like yourself was pluckM from out the wave, 
And this, a prize, and you^ a valued slave ? 
A daring spirit leaps from out your gaze, 
Yet one as bold meets it in all its ways ; 
Captive you are ; though you may be a host, 
I hold at naught the laws of which you boast. 



CANTO II. 19 

But cheer, not all the sweets of life are lost •, 

We '11 court the whirlwinds, when for wrath they 

groan, — 
When waves are mountain high, we '11 plow the f(nim ; 
When storms shall war, and lightning, wind, and hail, 
We MI smile on danger when the rest are pale ; 
We'll right tlie bh_)ody wrongs of hunninkind. 
And from the cannon's mouth as suits our mind 
We'll snatch his hard-earned riclies as we can, 
And make a slave of every ca})tive man.'' 

And now before this gallant ship arrived. 

The skitf unloads, and all things as contriv'd 

Were done ere yet had rose the king of day ; 

When harness'd to its steam this vessel gay 

Like a lone bird iiew o'er the watery way 

Ere yet the sun had rose, creating day ; 

And on this, sighing, borne was our La Fold, 

While thoughts on thoughts paced heavy o'er his soul. 

"Farewell, sweet childhood scenes," his spirit sighs, 
While the big tears are dropping from his eyes ; 
"Ye mountains, vales, and plains, and rugged shore, 
Forests and fields, I ne'er shall see you more. 
Parents and friends, and you, my dearest one, 
Whom I am pledged to meet at set of sun. 
Who holds my inmost feelings in her power. 
We '11 meet, alas ! not at th' appointed hour. 
Some unseen hand has pluck'd the promised flower ; 
Faithful, perhaps, she will fulfill her part, 



20 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And disappointment crush her loving heart, 
And restless she will weep away the night. 
Farewell, my dear ! O Fortune's with'ring blight 
Has pluckM my rose ; and who can make amends ? 
She fills our lives, and shapes our unknown ends. 
Tears us apart, and me from all my friends. 

"Thus oftentimes we dream of pure delight, 

And almost think we gaze with open sight 

Upon its form, now soon to be our own ; 

When all at once a storm sweeps in, loud groan 

Discordant thunders in their sullen wrath. 

And zigzag lightnings leap across the path 

Where we had thought to travel to our goal ; 

And sorrow's floods dash on the naked soul 

Through the same gateway opened for our gain, 

To shut the which each effort proves in vain. 

These floods relentlessly now beat on me ; 

All far and wide is one unbroken sea 

Both in, and out, reaching eternity ; 

The one within is cloak'd in darkest night, 

The one without outstretches farthest sight, 

And neither lend the least consoling light. 

One only star of hope is to be seen. 

And that is but a speculative dream. 

Which soon may disappear, and leave the soul, 

With deep despair wide-stretch'd from pole to pole. 

"So now, dear Euridice, a long good-by. 

The whistling wind is heard, where was thy sigh ; 



CANTO II. 21 

And where thy voice such pleasing accent bore, 
The shriek of cordage and the ocean's roar 
Grate harshly on my ear, reminding rae 
That all is lost ; and I, borne out to sea 
By human foes and my worst enemy. 

" Oh how my bosom sickens as I sail ; 
A dread simoon seems every passing gale, 
Now bearing me from life and all things dear, 
To some unknown, where all is doubt and fear ; 
Where bloody outlaws make their dismal homes 
And live on spoils, the price of dying groans. 

" Oh what an awful cataract of woe. 
Bound which no rainbow tints a beauty throw, 
But with a gloomy face and deafening roar 
Unceasing torments in my bosom pour. 

"The waters foam in caverns of the soul 
Being new burst — but soon will over roll 
The topmost pinnacle of hope and peace, 
Become a sea whose surgings never cease. 

"Hard by the verge of fate where leap these floods 

A dark and heavy mist upheaves — unstuds 

The sky, stretching its sable wings of night, 

As star by star goes out, and light by light. 

And with its inky folds, a mighty pall 

In grave-like gloom entombs my little all ; 

Not silent as that peaceful final spot. 



22 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

But blinding, jostling on, — to where ? to what ? 
O who can tell '{ for surelj I cannot. 

"While round me awful dread and haggard fear, 
Ring their deep, doleful voices in nij ear, 
A captive borne along I know not where, 
To ruin's gulf, the whirlpool of despair." 

So thought La Fold, while thicklj on each side 
Strange voices mix. The vessel sweeps the tide, 
Fast bearing him from all that 's dear below. 
His eyes in tears, his bosom streaming woe. 

Now on the deck while shone the golden day. 
He stood, and cast a wishful look away. 
Back on those shores where he was wont to be ; 
Each crag and hill seem'd sinking in the sea ; 
Till one by one forsook the sacred scene, 
And all was lost — vast ocean roU'd between ; 
And all was one wide, shoreless, liquid plain, 
O'er which he straining look'd, but look'd in vain. 

When these fond scenes forsook his wishful sight. 
His spirits sank within him — night, da/'/t' night 
With icy folds encompass'd all his mind. 
And transient death reuder'd his senses blind; 
And naught to him was sky, or air, or sea ; 
Engulfed was all in one black mystery, 
As if the grave with all-devouring moutli, 
Had swallowed up his all, from north to south ; 



CA'NTO II. 23 

And when again his swooning senses came, 
Distracted thoughts flew o'er his crazy brain, 
And many a vision strange around did strew, 
At which he sigh'd, and wept, and hxughed anew. 

His Euridice, before his crazy eye. 

Oft came and went, he knew not where, or why ; 

And oft lic'd call, with such an earnest voice, 

" O Euridice, my clioice, my only choice ! '' 

That to his cheeks the blood would quickly rush. 

And leave thereon a lingering crimson blush. 

Then waning back would leave them pinchVl and pale 

As where pale death oft leaves his latest trail. 

And then, as though some vision met his eye, 

Back to those cheeks would rush the crimson dye. 

Then with fixed gaze he 'd look till all was gone, 

And naught was left save space to gaze upon. 

And then as if the thunder spoke, heVl cry, 

"Demons and men are leagued to see me die." 

And then he 'd rave and ])ace the deck again 

And sigh for freedom, but that sigh was vain. 

And then again grew calm, and sti-ange, and wild. 

Talked of the fondest love, sighed, wept, and smiled. 

As though the object of his love was near 

With moisteiiM eye, and an attentive ear. 

So well he told his touching tale and clear, 
That outlaws standing by would drop a tear. 
But soon the touching, gentle fit was gone, 
And he in fearful, maddeuM rage, raved on. 



CANTO III. 



From La Fold's state of insanity, to him reason gradually re- 
turns, and three days' time finds him rational and at the threshold 
of his captor's home, which is a rock-bound island amid tlie howl- 
ing ocean. This island and its harbor is graphically described. To 
this island through an open cave whose mouth is covered at the 
flow of the tide by the sea, he is conducted by his captors, and 
finds here a beautiful garden, where are houses sheltering these 
outlaws, with whom he is permitted to eat a meal, by which he is 
strengthened, his handcuffs having been previonsl}^ taken off. On 
a sudden he rushes from among them in great swiftness, and soon 
is lost to sight of all those who are in pursuit. He passes through 
an encumbered glen, and reaches the ocean on the other side of 
the island from that which he had entered, and sees the sun just 
setting, from which waves of light seem to streak like the northern 
lights. The reflections of his mind, given while here on a high and 
naked rock ; where this canto leaves him. 



Old time as ever swiftly onward flew, 

So did this ship o'er ocean's boundless bine. 

Three days and nights had quickly come and gone 

Without an object to be gazed upon, 

When undisputed reason tilFd its throne, 

In our La Fold (our captive now made known). 

Which every other power made haste to own, 

And gladly to this one they all bowed down. 

[24] 



CANTO III. 25 

At length these reach'd a lone and rocky shore, 
Which not a mark of Imnian footprints bore. 
High rose the rocks amid the waters blue, 
And like a fortress frown'd upon the view. 

Here enter'd they a rock-surrounded bay 

Whose mouth afforded room for passageway 

And little more. High rose the rocks, around 

Which both a bay and island snugly bound, — 

A secret, safe protection gave to these 

Just now arrived fresh from the roaring seas. 

Here was a wharf which nature's hand had made 

From table rocks of a volcanic grade ; 

And here their ship was moorVl at ebb of tide ; 

Here landed they and every nook was eyed. 

And by close scrutinizing search was found. 

Bored through the rocks deep underneath the ground, 

A crooked passage, dark, and rough, and long ; 

Through this they press'd their way boldly and strong, 

In their curs'd meshes bearing our La Fold 

Whose burning thoughts are better guessed than told ; 

Here silence reigned, and all that one could hear 

Was echo of their footsteps on the ear. 

But looking long and sharp at length he saw 

A dot of light which nearer seemM to draw. 

As blindly stumbling, on and on he went 

Like churchman through the gloomy days of Lent. 

But pushing on through caverns dim and dark^ 

He nuide a steady way toward that spark 



26 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Of light which in the distance shone or gleani'd, 

And far within the distance still it seem'd ; 

Still marcird he on, and soon it did appear 

As though that light was growing slowly near ; 

And as he faster moved along the way, 

It moved, and brighter grew approaching day ; 

Till all at once it widened up anew. 

And a whole island broke upon the view — 

An island broad amid the w^atery waste. 

Whose rock-bound shores held ocean back a space. 

Which rudely rising high, defiance gave 

To wind and howling storm and angry wave. 

Upon this rock-bound island, seeming wild, 
A garden of exquisite beauty smiPd, 
Affording comfort, sustenance, and cheer. 
To those who had in secret gathered here, 
Whose greatest boast was not to mercy know, 
Foes to the world, the world to them a foe. 

Here met they other members of their clan 
Living in houses reared by their own hands. 
And as when lovers meet after delay. 
With tears and fond embraces, so met tliey ; 
And when each hand had clasped each hand in turn 
And of each other's welfare each had learnM, 
And the first welcome greeting had been said, 
A table from their ample store was spread — 
Productions of all climes from far-oft' soils. 
Far-fetched results and price of other's toils — 



CANTO III. 27 

Now smoking with perfumes both rich and rare 
Show'd greatest skill in culinary care, 
Whose savors rich were wafted island wide ; 
Each taste was sharpened by the smell supplied, 
When soon a rough, rude voice was heard to cry, 
'"'' Dinner ! '''' while others echoing made reply — 
" Dinner for all, that well can satisfy. 
The which to beat, a king need never try. " 

No rules or decent manners did they heed, 

But to the table each one did proceed, 

And fell to eating, each as each had need ; 

For, exercised in fast and labor long. 

Each appetite was made more keen and strong, 

And with an eager relish each partook 

Of what had been prepared by every cook. 

They swept the board, and greedy swallow'd down 

Whatever on the table could be found. 



And our La Fold from friends and country torn. 

Had fasted long, and grievVl, and wept, and mourn'd ; 

Bow'd down and crush'd beneath the weighty power 

Of the anxieties of such an hour, 

Which had all thoughts of eating drove astray, 

Toss'd on the rolling sea day after day. 

Though captive 3'et he was, yet still felt he 

Cravings of hunger of a marked degree, 

The which to satisfy he ate in haste 

Whatever he could reach. All pleasVl his taste. 



28 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

As when a flower, low-couched upon the plain, 
All droop'd and withered for the want of rain, 
Looks up refreshed at the lirst copious shower 
And smiles in loveliness, — a perfect flower, 
Exhaling odors sweet, — so with La Fold 
On being fed, restrengthened seemM in soul, 
In body, and in mind. Most strange and droll, 
His cheeks and lips resum'd their rosy hue. 
Emblem of health and beauty — all anew. 
Sparkled again the luster of his eye, 
A confidential trust in the Most High, 
A light which doth all other lights outvie, 
Of which this sinful world can never know 
Except by tliose who Ve felt a kindred glow, — 
A flame that all who see can but admire 
Though they know not the source of such a fire. 

This band of outlaws, men of hardened souls. 
Admiring saw this light in our La Fold, 
Of which they knew not, neither could they know, 
Howe'er he could such resignation show. 
N'er can this wicked world tell how or wliy, 
Good Steplicn stoned, in triumph thus could die. 
They to the vision v/hich he saw were blind ; 
So grope in darkness unredeemed mankind ; 
And thus they stumble on in misery. 
Beholding not the light which others see. 

Thus with this holy feeling deep within 
He looked on all, and saw, and pitied sin ; 



CANTO III. 29 

Or rather those who liad its wreck been made, 

And on whom it hud cast its deadly shade ; 

8aw each unyielding heart, each undim'd eye. 

Taught not to weep, yea, not to feel or sigh. 

And to a soft emotion ne'er to yield, 

And without mercy deadly wounds to deal, — 

Saw all tiieir souls fenced "'round with flint and steel. 

Each point was fortified in such a way. 

Repulsed was every truth, and held at bay. 

Each moral force pushed back. And thus were they 

Proof against right, stronghold of sin and crime — 

Pleasure they sought, but sought in vain to find ; 

Deep down within the inmost breathing soul 

Sin's dread upheavings wrought a strange control. 

And on the sight its stormy burden rolPd. 

And angry vengeance in a zigzag path 
Would gleam like lightnings in their sullen wrath, 
While flash succeeded flash ; deep, loud, and long. 
Accusing thunders answered to each wrong, 
While deep remorse beat down like pelting hail, 
The winds of passion rising to a gale. 
With force increasing to a dread cyclone. 
Which stretches ruin wide, and wildly strown. 

Restless was every limb, and every eye 
Forever watchful, yet they knew not why ; 
And such commotions warred within each breast 
As tear the soul, and the whole man unrest. 



30 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

All these, at one short glance, saw our La Fold, 

And with observant eye drank in the whole ; 

Saw each sad heart unto itself a law. 

And sigird for pity at what here he saw. 

Though ditt'ering each from each in type and mould, 

Some being small, and others large of soul, 

Yet all were govern'd by the grossest sin. 

And on their hands were deeds of blood ; and in, 

A cloud of guilt as thick as Egypt's night, 

Hung o'er each soul, and shut out every light ; 

While strange conjectures grop'd amid this gloom 

Like disembodied spirits from the tomb. 

While thus La Fold's keen, searching eye saw all, 
Down at his mental doorway dropped the pall 
Of real grief. While he communion held 
Thus with himself : " Alas, am I compell'd 
To view with pain this wretched human state 
From which themselves they cannot extricate ? 
But firmly fetter'd with more cruel bands, 
Than these which hold in uselessness my hands. 
They strive, and fain would find a wished release 
From these consuming woes ; yet inward peace 
So earnestly sought out is nowhere found, 
And every effort deeper rends the wound 
Which in their troubled breasts they ever bear, 
With writhing pains and agonized despair. 
O thou, my heavenly Father, ever kind, 
Free me from this distracted state of mind.'' 



CANTO III. 31 

He started from these thoughts as from a trance, 

Then cast inquiringly about a gUmce, 

All eyes were fix'd on him, and were amazed, 

As when we, unpreparM, on angels gaze ; 

Amazed to see the radiance of his face, 

So indescribable in this strange place. 

He felt their piercing looks ; and as a flower 

Bows down its head before a driving shower, 

Protecting thus its textures from its power ; 

So, blushing, bow'd the face of our La Pold, 

And shelter sought from storm of ejes so bold. 

And as that flower lifts up its drooping head 
When by the wind and sun from moisture freed, 
And smiles around on all who it behold. 
So rose that blushing face of our La Pold ; 
And look'd a gem of perfect loveliness. 
To these misguided men of such unrest. 
All stood entranced with wonder and delight 
To see his countenance so calm and bright ; 
And one who seem'd the leader of this band. 
All overcome, gave out this sweet command, 
'' Unloose these cruel shackles from his hands. 
And let this noble youth untrammePd stand." 

Forthwith, at once, as eager to obey. 

All sprang. His hated handcufi's dropped away. 

As when a bird envii-onVl in a cage 

Its freedom has been given, its wings engage 



dU LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

The atmosphere in wild and joyous flight ; 

It wlieels and circles with intense delight, 

With all its plumage spread, cuts the soft air 

With whiz, and buzz, and will to do and dare — ' 

So sported thought npon its dizzy round 

Of him whose hands had now their freedom found. 

In mind he pictured, yet with doubt and fear, 
That his release from all these thralls was near, 
And in imagination traced again 
His vesseFs course across the watery main ; 
Tasted the sweets of peaceful life anew 
With all its beauties opening on the view. 
And felt as though he folded in his arms 
His Euridice with all her blissful charms. 

He thus communing with his heart and bi-ain 

The light of other days he lived again, 

But starting from these dreams as from a trance, 

Saw the reality in one short glance, 

The which beholding filPd him with a sigh, 

Also the trembling tear-drop filPd his eye. 

At this most sudden, unexpected change 

All looked on him with wonder wild and strange ; 

He taking the wliole situation in, 

And bold of purpose, strong and fleet of limb. 

Suiting his actions to his thoughts and will 

With one bold leap of superhuman skill 

Landed beyond their reach — eluded grasp, 



CANTO III. 33 

And like a roebuck bounded far and fast, 
Swift as a frightened eagle in its flight, 
Defiance gave to chase. Soon lost to sight 
Of him who was the foremost in pursuit, 
Nor did the foremost long that flight dispute ; 
Through dismal, dark deflles threaded his waj. 
More like dim twilight than the open day, 
Still pushed he on, not knowing where he went, 
l^ut to escape was every purpose bent. 
High over him and upon either hand 
Were shelving rocks and precipices grand. 
While every seam therein appeared to be 
A rooting place for bush or forest tree, 
Which stretching up their branches to the light. 
Made this deep shade so much resembling night. 

Onward he went in silence and unseen, 
Aided by light which through the matted green 
In narrow crevices had found its way, 
And added but a gloom to dreary day ; 
And while he moved in this strange place alone. 
Where intercepted light but feebly shone, 
Some jutting rocks oft turned his steps aside, 
As wanderingly he went without a guide. 

Through gloomy paths and deeper gloom of mind 
Ho traveled on, beclouded, blundering, blind. 
No sound of footsteps reach'd him from behind, 
No sight of footprints met his gaze before. 
Known sounds or sights were not ; still on he bore 
3 



34 LA roLD AND KURIDICE. 

In the same course lie thought to'ard ocean's shore, 
Upon this lonely islantrs other side 
From that he'd entered at the ebb of tide. 

Thus pushing on through ravines deep and long 
He questional oft, " Is this course right or wrong? " 
And listened for some sounds within the shade ; 
But none he heard, save what his footsteps made, 
Or their repeating echoes fn^m the rocks, 
Or loosen'd stones whose shocks succeeded shocks. 
As loosen'd from their base, with headlong sway, 
Would down some steeps push their resistless way, 
And leave destruction hanging in the track, 
And fearful havoc strangely looking back. 

At length upon the breeze he heard the roar 
Of ocean dashing on some rocky shore. 
Anxious and waiting there all mute he stood 
To catch the nnisic from the mighty flood ; 
For anything was pleasing to his ear 
Which broke the dreadful silence witnessed here. 

Like as a long-toss'd mariner at sea. 
With compass lost, beholds with joy and glee 
In the dim distance signs of land appear, 
And strains his sight to see that land more clear, 
So this lost wanderer in this forest stands 
Striving to aid his hearing with his hands, 
While o'er his face glimpses of pleasure stray. 
Chasing each other in mysterious way, 



CANTO III. 35 

As jostling through this forest comes the roar 
Of ocean, heard by him so oft before. 

And thus this di-eud monotony was broke, 
As smiling, to himself these words he spoke : 
' ' Hark ! borne upon the passing breeze I hear 
The voice of the groat deep ; it draws more near 
And roars ' Rejoice ! ' ' T is music in mj ear. 
Though once a dread, it brings a gladness noiv^ 
Once mark'd with fear, noci lightens up mj brow. 
Through these defiles now shoreward let me go, 
Tracing its music up, to further know 
AVhat the conditions are. Once on the beach 
Some vessel I may see in calling reach. 
At least some straggler hope leads me this way 
Showing relief to come, if not to-day." 

And saying this, he pushed with eager tread 
O'er stones and rocks and fallen tree-tops dead. 
Through a deep, long, and much encumbered glen 
Which ne'er before had known the haunts of men, 
Toward the source of that continual roar 
Which bellowed through these scenes forevermore, 
The louder growing as he near'd the shore. 

Thus through an oft obstructed path he found 
The way grew lighter, and increased the sound, 
Till gloomy shade to light had given stead. 
And silence to the ocean's thundering tread ; 
And he, uncovered, stood reveal'd to day, 



36 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

While sunshine kiss\l liis rough, bewiklered way ; 
And through the branches of the trees he saw 
The ocean seeming without bounds or hiw, 
And felt the cooling breezes on his brow 
All batli'd in copious perspiration now ; 
And soon unclouded broke upon the view 
The sun just sinking in the ocean blue. 



A path of light seem'd stretched across the wave, 

Which by reflection, brilliant beauties gave, 

As when the northern lights in autumn's sky 

Spring out of mist, and rise up zenith high, 

Now shine in brightness to a perfect blaze, 

Then sink and fade on the beholder's gaze. 

Till almost lost in night and common blue, 

Then on a sudden lighten up anew, 

And shine more vivid than they had before 

While we with wonder do the scene adore, 

So came and went this seeming path of light. 

As o'er the sun just sinking now from sight 

Some fleeting clouds swept upward in their flight. 

This sight beholding from the restless sea. 

The shadows flung from mountain, crag, and tree ; 

And evening closing in so blithe and gay 

Wrapped all his mind in pensive reverie. 

As on a rock he like a statue stood 

Above the tree-tops of an ancient wood, 

Grown from that beach swept by the mighty flood. 



CANTO III. 

Thus high mid air, and oceanward liis face, 

On either hand the open arms of space. 

Behind him summit over summit rose, 

And mountain range stood each to each opposed, 

His far surveying eye took in the whole 

Whose lofty grandeur magnified his soul. 

And touch'd the spring which opened wide the door 

Of wondering love he 'd often felt before. 



CANTO IV. 



L.v Poi.D from his high standpoint sees the beanties of nature, 
and to its Author opens all his soul in prayer, and asks to 
be restored to his native land and former kinsmen, and to 
be divinely led. As he ceases to pray, a rustling sound at- 
tracts his attention, and looking in the direction of the sound, he 
sees the same man who had seized and brought him into cap- 
tivity, who tells him to fear not, as he also is seeking liberty. 
At this unexpected declaration, La Pold faints and becomes pale as 
death. He is aroused by his captor, Hepnora, who gains his con- 
fidence, and both swear before God to be steadfast friends. While 
here their prayer is answered, and a vessel, attracted by concen- 
trated perfumes from this island, draws near, which is signaled by 
these two. The vessel answers by booming guns. From this 
vessel a skiff is let down upon the ocean and two skillful sailors 
leap into it and make for.this island. Meantime these two from 
bush to bush descend down to the water's edge. These are taken 
into the skiff and carried to the vessel which takes both them and 
the skiff in, raising the skiff up into its rigging, and thus these 
two are saved. 

There is a beauty always bearing sway, 
Clieers the dark night and liglits the gloom of day, 
Speaks in the ocean's roar, the whirlwind's wrath. 
And leaps along the lightning's vivid path ; 
Serenely smiles at gentle evening's hour, 
Looks meekly out from every opening flower. 
Sits imaged plain on every passing cloud, 
[38] 



CANTO IV. 39 

And rolls its chariot in the thunder loud ; 

Sparkles in every drop of rain or dew, 

Paints the broad earth in green, the sky in blue. 

Is in the cradle of the billow rockVl 

Or fast asleep is in the cavern lock'd ; 

Breathes sweet perfume in every wind which blows, 

Droops its fair head at every evening's close, 

Opens its eyes to light when buds unclose ; 

Where meet the sea and land in fond embrace, 

It crowds between its ever glorious face. 

Though there be not an intervening space. 

This beauty our La Fold saw, heard, and felt. 

As low upon the naked rocks he knelt, 

His mind surcharged with charms from everywhere. 

Bent all his mighty soul in humble prayer. 

And to the Author of tliis beauty rare, • 

Thus all his simple earnestness laid bare : — 

"O thou ubiquitary God, whose eye 

Pervades all things, in sea, land, air, and sky. 

Who knows each secret working deep within 

Each vital field and bosom known to sin, 

And even me thou knowest and dost behold. 

To me the gate of mercy wide unfold. 

On this deserted, desolated shore, 

The richness of those mercies held in store 

In all their fullness in my bosom pour, 

O sanctify me nmi]^ and evermore^ 

And guide me, and tliy wretched one restore 



40 LA roLD AND EUEIDICE. 

To friends and kindred, as I was of jore, 
Within thine own good time and favorM way. 
Led by thy hand, I '11 ever thee obey, 
And when I doubt, let shine tliy perfect day. 

"As wreathM in beauty with extended hands 
Amid wide space all bounteous nature stands. 
And from her well fillM clouds of life and cheer 
Shakes down the bounties of the rolling; year, 
O be it mine these bounties for to share 
With hearts more precious and in lands more fair. 
And by thee led, O may I ever be 
Among the blest through all eternity. 
Thy favored will to me be ever known 
While I am thine and thou my precious own. 
To grant these favors. Father, condescend. 
And may afflictions prove my good in end."" 

He ceasM ; and still recumbent on liis knees, 
Plis earnest words still floating on the breeze. 
While in the attitude of prayer inclined 
Communing with the Almighty, All Divine, 
Supreme in faith, bending his mighty mind. 
When by a rustling sound, aroused he woke. 
And his strange faith-bound reverie was broke. 
As when to flame flashes the rising smoke. 

Collecting up his powers as from a trance, 
lie threw about a sharp inquiring glance ; 
When lo, approaching from the shelving side 



CANTO IV. 41 

Of this stone altar, founded deep and wide, 
The selfsame stalwart form and o]xm face, 
Borne on the same defiant, measured pace, 
Who had ujn-aised him from the wave-wash\] sand, 
And forced him captive from his native land. 
Now coming near him said, " Fear not for me. 
Thy friend and brother in captivity, 
Who like yourself is longing to be free." 

At these sweet words despair gave up its place, 
Joy inward smiPd and lightened up his face. 

As when in death and anguish we repine. 

Some new-born hope doth o'er our pathway shine : 

The sight of which breathes glories all di\'ine, 

The clouds recede, the sable clouds of niglit, 

And where thick darkness was, now all is light. 

At which great change we swoon, — so with La Fold, 

As all to him a different story told. 

Who at first sight had thought that all his prayers 

Had brought him nothing but abject despair ; 

That the same hand which had him captive made 

Was now to force him back to deeper shade. 

With heavier bonds into captivity, 

Never again to light and freedom see. 

But these few meaning words which just had roIIM 

Like a huge avalanche of joy untold 

Through the deep center of his inner soul. 

And with their sweetness paralyzed the whole, 

TransfixVl, lie like a kneeling statue stood 



42 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

As pale as death and motionless as wood. 

The whom surveying, the approacher-said, 

"And can it be, fair youth, that thou art dead. 

Whose voice so recent with its Maker plead. 

While every word sank in me deeply down 

And left my soul outgushing from the wound, 

Which ever longs and for its Maker feels. 

Forth streaming from this wound which never heals? 

this poor bleeding heart ! thus taught by thine. 
Would lean upon the arm of the Divine ; 
Though bound in flesh and tenanted in clay 
Would in the arms of mercy melt away. 
Though lifeless is thy form, thy own is bliss, 

1 '11 touch your hand and stamp it with a kiss." 
He having said, performed without amiss ; 

The hand uplifting to the body, gave 

Sort of a passive motion or a wave 

Which o'er him crept, and from his spellbound state 

Roused all his mighty soul with powers elate. 

Revived in hope, he lived and breath'd anew. 
And brighter beauties sparkled on the view ; 
He turn'd his eyes which now were all aglow 
With light and love, which angels do bestow. 
And meekly ask'd, "Art thou my friend or foe? 
And from thy bearing what am I to know? 

"I do believe you have a noble mind. 

And thy fix'd purposes there 's none can blind. 



CANTO IV. 43 

While I was yet your captive, I was taiig-ht 

That you were not of base material wrought ; 

Each word and move and look which then were given 

Through broken clouds shone as the stars of heaven, 

And showM the inner character you bore. 

Though debris was without, and blood, and gore." 

This being said, Hepnora thus replied 
(Hepnora, once the living hope and pride 
Of Little Rhody at the ocean side, 
And wash'd forever by the Atlantic tide) : — 

"I am your friend and partner in distress, 
Who like yourself am longing to be bless'd. 
Perhaps some favoring wind o'er ocean borne 
To your most earnest prayer may make return. 
May urge some vessel on her lonely way 
To near this spot. This signaled may convey 
Our anxious selves unto some peopled shore. 
From whom relief may come and us restore 
To friends and kindred, bless'd forevermore, 

" I have built up an interest in thee 

Most strange since causing your captivity. 

So noble were your principles within 

That when confronted, buffeted by sin, 

A heavenly faith appeared to underlie 

Your soul, and earthly power defy. 

So sweet, so calm, in every dread distress. 

You seem'd to more than mortal power ])ossess, 



44 LA I'OLD AND EURIDICE. 

And in the secret chambers of your mind 
To constantly commune with tlie Divine ; 
While in his hand, confidingly was thine. 

" 'As conquered Greece subdued her conquering foe 
And taught rude Rome the art of peace to know,' 
So captive you did captor me, subdue. 
And taught me of the lovable and true ; 
That all-sustaining Power just out of view. 

"I am the leader of this pirate band, 
By force of circumstances took command ; 
My word is law, while they in me confide. 
But once mistrusted, death would soon decide 
My short-lived fate, and my place be supplied ; 
A place to him as dangerous as to me, — 
Death to be tn intruded of fidelity. 
To their detested cause of piracy. 

"I thought the course you took would bring you near 
This sightly spot ; I therefore sought you here 
While others closely watch for you elsewhere, 
Each to report what of his trust and care. 

"Here while alone let God our witness be. 
In solemn attitude on bended knee, 
Affirm that ours a common trust shall be, 
Whatever be our lot, slave, bond, or free ; 
That we each other's perils both will share. 
All risks to mutually incur and dare. 



CANTO IV. 45 

To freedom seek wherever it doth seem 

Success will lie ; or where we both shall deem 

Expedient to hazard life to try. 

When once embark \1, to shrink not though we die ; 

And that unbroken friendship''s chain shall bind 

Our hearts, though buffeted by all mankind. 

"Tims let us swear, and by that oath be led 
Through all the hours of life, till life has Hed 
From one or both such as the case may be, 
The one that 's left to guard the memory 
Of the one dead ; till finally we join 
In common lot in heavenly lands beyond." 

They both assent, and in the attitude of jirayer 
Before the God of heaven and nature swear. 

This given oath of strict fidelity 

In bonds of friendship evermore to be 

So full of faith, so humble and sincere, 

That Heaven, bent forward with attentive ear. 

At once vouchsafd to grant their humble plea. 

And bring them back to priceless liberty. 

As when two duteous children full of woe 
Ask of their father what he can bestow, 
With earnest plea and eyes suffused with tears. 
The telltale of their wants and hopes and fears, 
To raise them up into a higher sphere 
Of useful happiness and joy and cheer ; 



46 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

The willing father hears their warm appeal, 
And feels within him all his children feel. 

So these, the great eternal Father heard. 
Soul-earnest pleaders, yet quite few of words, 
And who in fullness of compassion sent 
His messenger of love, supremely bent 
On mercy's heavenly errand on to these. 
Still fix'd and suppliant on their bended knees. 

With viewless wings he cuts the ether blue 
In course so swift the mind cannot persue. 

As when a plummet dropped, by certain laws 
Of gravitation toward earth's center draws 
Swifter and swifter in its downward course. 
Till intercepted by external force. 
So drop'd this heavenly messenger of light, 
Drawn by the force of prayer to swifter flight 
As it approach'd the source from whence uphove. 
This stream divine, reaching the ear of Jove, 
From these two suppliant hearts, who in despair 
Were sending up their souls in earnest prayer. 

And there beholding these in sweet embrace, 
And suppliant still before the throne of grace. 
As quick as thought he scents the mental breeze 
Of their desires, and all their wishes sees. 
Then in the fount of blessings full and clear 



CANTO IV. 47 

Forever welling up for souls sincere 

Ubiquitous forever far and near, 

He dips T;lie shadows of his viewless wings, 

And upon these and all about he flings 

Odors of heavenly blessings soon to be, 

Then scouts with hurried rounds the rolling sea, 

Searching for means by which they might be brought, 

And searched not long ere found he what he sought. 

A splendid steamer in her strength and pride 

B}^ power of steam was pushing o'er the tide 

Like some lone bird, long necked and plum'd in gray. 

With head erect, winging her watery way. 

Smiling, on favored means he freights the breeze 

With fragrant odors which the senses please, 

Condensed from flowers which on this island grew 

And shipward spread them o'er the ocean blue, 

Attracting thus th' attention of the crew. 

Who bending the ship's course, now shoreward drew ; 

When thus the captain to his next in place, 

" What heavenly odors do these breezes grace ! 

Perfumes as sweet as when Aurora breathes 

From lands of dews, and flowers float o'er these seas. 

" Unto my much pleas'd mind this much is clear. 
Some fragrant unknown shore is surely near. 
Or else some power divine around us strews 
Incense divine from heaven's immortal dews. 



48 LA I'OLD AND EURIDICE. 

" Whatever it may be, let's bear awhile 

Against these winds that with such fragrance smile." 

• 

This being said, there needed no command. 

The ship already now was nearing land, 

And lip this stream of perfumes rich and rare, 

Drew near the spot where these two suppliants were ; 

And as it o'er the sky-bound ocean flew 

From out the waves an island rose to view. 

"Behold a land of unknown wealth," they cry, 

" Which can the world with rare perfumes supply." 

Our new-made friends beheld the steam ascend, 

This vessel pushing up against the wind, 

As though themselves were objects of its course. 

While breezes seaward swept with gentle force. 

When spake Hepnora briefly to La Fold : 

"Way out upon the sea canst thou behold 

An object dimly rising to the view, 

Like a gray cloud above the liquid blue ? " 

To whom La Fold, " With more than watchful eye 
Have I beheld that object, where the sky 
Seems to bend down and dip beneath the wave. 
That distant mote which strangely seems to brave 
The opposing winds, and slowly to draw near ; 
And hopes arise, supplanted oft by fear, 
That we may be the object of its care, — 
An answer sent in swift relief, to prayer. 



CANTO IV. 49 

"With overwhelming gratitude I bow^, 
For favors which seem waiting for us now ; 
For see, as sinks from sight the king of day, 
A vessel skims across the watery way, — 
The harbinger of blessings soon to be, 
Whose favorM, blest recipients are we. 
The heavenly clouds of mercy now do bend 
Big with their genial showers to soon descend 
In rich profusion on our thirsty souls, 
While some kind power our better fate unfolds." 

He said ; and still the vessel drew more near 
And soon to vision stood erect and clear. 



"Thanks be to God ! " at once both breath'd aloud, 
As full in front steani'd up this vessel proud ; 
And up in haste they waved the signal high, 
In answer to the which was made reply 
By booming guns, proclaiming clear and loud. 
Their sign was recognized. With bearing proud 
This vessel landward drew, while rising high 
Her steam aslant appear' d to prop the sky ; 
Whereon it seemed the angels might ascend 
To taste of heavenly blessings without end ; 
Such blessings seem'd about to be the lot, 
Of these now waiting on this sightly spot. 

Ere long this vessel near this island stood. 
And seem'd a member of a neighboring wood. 



50 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

From rock and deck responsive greetings broke, 
And every tongue the selfsame language spoke ; 
When thus La Fold unveiPd his grateful thoughts : 
"Thrice welcome, much loved kindred; you have 

brought 
To us salvation which we so much sought. " 

There comes a sacred pleasure at the sight 
Of our lov'd flag of red and blue and white, 
Which tongue cannot express or pencil write. 

From ship, a light boat settles on the deep, 
In which two skillful sailors quickly leap, 
And with a turn, a sweep, and splash of oars. 
Shoots like an arrow for these rugged shores. 



't)rt^ 



Meantime our hero and his new-made friend, 
From bush to bush down cragged steeps descend 
To reacli the water's edge. Perchance the tide 
Was at its flow. The light boat at their side ; 
With these two souls they freight the little skift', 
Then vesselward their prow they quickly shift, 
Which like a sea-bird rocked by every wave, 
Now up, now down, just as the waters lave. 
In course direct pursues its watery way 
Toward the vessel which not far off lay. 
Most skillful hands this little skiff unload. 
Draw up the skiff itself in the same mode. 
And in the rigging soon that skiff is stow'd. 



CANTO IV. 51 

Thus were these two miraculously saved, 
Snatch'd as from death and from an open grave. 
Instant the steam ascends in circling wreaths, 
As though a great leviathan had breath'd ; 
As if instinct with life the vessel moves, 
The waters smile, and tranquil heaven approves. 
Two happy hearts it bears as light as air, 
Which hearts by the dread besom of despair 
Had just been swept ; and deep within those souls 
Forebodings rose, too dreadful to be told. 

But now, fair hope with smiles came tripping in, 
With visions bright no cloud of doubt could dim. 
And casting looks across the sky-girt sea, 
Dream'd of fair joys and pleasures soon to be. 
Which in each bosom with delightful art 
Bent a fair rainbow o'er each anxious heart. 
And shed a halo dress'd in every hue 
On each bright picture which their fancies drew. 

Strange feelings came to these deliver'd men ; 
It seem'd as though they had been born again. 
And bright prospective life spread out to view, 
Which now to them had opened up anew. 
Contrasting with the past most strange and droll. 
Pictured a glorious future for each soul. 

To them each moment then was big with fate 
Which from this telling time would ever date. 



CANTO V. 



The vessel taking on these two heroes, La Fold and Hepnora. 
The perfumes of the breezes are no longer noticed, but the crew 
listens to Hepnora, who gives auanalys is of his life's liistory, which 
is suddenly brought to a close by the appearance of a vessel dis- 
playing the signal of distress. Hepnora wishing to know the cause 
of their anxious looks, is given a glass through which the ship 
appears to be very near, and thereon he discovers his wife, 
when he suddenly drops the glass and appears lost to all. lie 
declares what he has seen, and implores the captain to save her. 
The captain, greatly moved, declares that all must be saved, and 
exhorts his men to do their duty. In haste they reach the wrecked 
vessel and learn the cause of her distress. The two vessels by 
order are then lashed together, and a platform joins the two, over 
which the passengers of the wrecked vessel are transferred to the 
able one, with all their light baggage. The two vessels are then 
separated, the disabled taken in tow, and then proceed on their 
way. Address to the two vessels — " Ocean's Queen," the disabled 
one, and "Rising Day," the able one. 

The od orate stream with such sweet fragrance wreath'd, 
With these two heroes saved, no more was breath'd, 
But all engross'd they liear the story told, 
The trials strange of friend to our La Fold. 

In listening attitude erect they stand ; 
Each foot is still, and listless every hand, 
With eager, gaping mouths, and lips apart, 
[52] 



CANTO V. 53 

Like statues snatcli'd from aucieut Grecian art, 
While every word sinks deep i;i every heart. 

Touch'd by th^ emotions of the inner man 
And tillM therewith, Hepnora thus began : — 

"Dear friends who have redeemM us, O give ear ; 
Hear what I say, and ponder what you hear ; 
Think not I boast when of myself I speak, 
For God hath led, and learn'd me to be meek ; 
And what I am and to whatever brought 
I owe to Jlini^ ancl of myself am nought. 
Whate'er I tell in that same spirit hear, 
And think not once that I myself revere. 

"My lot in life was not a menial slave, 
I was the leader of a people brave, 
And in their heart of hearts held up to view. 
With a devotion more than to me due. 
What to all others seem'd a weighty task. 
To me came easy, all unsought, unask'd. 
Learning and science had upon me smiPd, 
For sure I thought I was their favor'd child. 

"I felt the steed of Genius break his rein, 
And o'er rude rocks leap up the steeps of fame. 
And on the verge, fierce from his headlong flight, 
He stood ; and gazing from his lofty height. 
Saw the ungifted millions in the vale. 
Striving in vain the rugged cliffs to scale. 



54 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

But where I readiest footing found, 
These could not climb to higher ground. 
And tho' they ever strove these to assail, 
They always strove in vain, and but to fail. 

"But think not though in triumph's proudest hour 
That happiness was mine, though mine the power ; 
Ambition madly struggling in my breast 
My vitals tore and murder'd every rest. 

"And though my people thought that bliss was mine, 
As they beheld my star of glory shine, 
They knew not of the darkness in my soui, 
Where care press'd down on care of giant mould, 
Which pressing up against my future sky, 
Shut every tranquil vision from my eye. 

"The fullest pleasures known within my breast 
Were brought by the relief to deep distress. 
This to my inner self enjoyment gave, 
And fed me on the food my nature craved ; 
And if I 'd ever do some mammoth good, 
The unpretending way was best. Thus would 
The unassuming bring the fullest joy. 
And fill my soul with bliss without alloy ; 
That gentle peace which has no after stings, 
But every day a new enjoyment brings. 

" The spur of selfish pride goads us to woe ; 
Measures of mercy^ full to overflow, 



CANTO V. 55 

[nvite us on, and other pathwajs show, 

And all those paths with heavenly blessings strow. 

To taste, is purest pleasures to receive, 

We find the blessing when we blessing give. 

A gifted, loving wife once on me smiled. 

And on me too a heavenly favor'd child. 

" Fortune was mine, and place, and wealth, and power •, 

Yet all from me were snatched in one short hour, 

My vitals torn and life left spinning out 

Into a winter^s wind. And then about 

Me closed the thickest night, I gave up all, 

And drank a cup of wormwood and of gall. 

"About my miseries then — ■ O who can tell ! 
You hardly could imagine a worse hell. 

"iVo-?^, I am leader of a pirate band ; 
I by their vote was given the command. 
For to refuse was death. I gave assent, 
And those dare-devils upon mischief bent, 
By desperation driven and madly brave, 
Faced fiercest dangers both of wind and wave. 
Whatever they dare do, in that I led, 
And in the sharpest perils oft did thread 
The greatest dangers ever known to men. 
And dared to beard the lion in his den. 
Appraising life as naught, I held my breath. 
And rusird into the very jaws of death, 



5G LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Though strange to say, pale death did not devour, 
I safety found, and stand I here this hour.'"' 

Meanwhile this vessel, push'd by force of steam, 
Flew o'er the deep as fancy o'er a dream ; 
So swift in course it cuts the nether sky, 
On either side the waves go sweeping by, 
In front, prow-cut, the waters leap superb, 
Behind, they growl of quietude disturbed. 

On right, on left, in front, they nothing view 
But one unbroken sight of sea-tint hue, 
A tint between the greenish and the blue. 

In rear, the island seem'd a little moat, 
Which on the water's surface seenrd to float. 
In front stretclfd out for miles on miles away. 
Where seem'd the sky to dip beneath the sea, 
Was slowly fading the last light of day. 
And one by one the stars began to show 
High up above and in the deep below ; 
When, lo, a ship was seen in the southwest. 
Waving abroad the signal of distress. 
The steersman saw, and thus aloud did cry, 
" A vessel in distress ! " And every eye 
Was strain'd the distant object to espy, 
Hepnora, pausing, ask'd the question why, — 
" Why are these anxious looks and signal cries? 
And why across the water stretch your eyes ? 



CANTO V. 57 

Do other woes and perils us await ? 

And hang our lives still on the thread of fate? " 

To whom the captain thus : " See, far away 
A vessel stranded out upon the sea." 
He gave a glass through which it did appear 
As though that vessel stood up very near. 

Through this Ilepnora look'd, then let it fall, 
And stood transfixM, and seeming lost to all. 

At length he said, with absent-minded air, 
''My God ! as sure as fate, my wife is there ! 
For Heaven's sake, dear captain, save I pray, 
And great is your reward in every way." 

That hardy captain who for many years 

Had stranger been to sympathy or fears 

Now to his very soul was prob'd. Great tears 

Came tumbling down his furrowVl cheek of care, 

Like waters o'er a creviced rock made bare 

By time's unceasing and eternal wear. 

"Hear me, O man," he said, "May God attend 

And strike me dead if I am not your friend. 

None of that vessel's inmates shall be lost, 

All must be saved whatever it may cost ; 

Nothing shall effort lack upon our part. 

Be strong of nerve and of determin'd heart ; 

And you, my men, I charge be at your post. 

And from that stranded vessel save the lost." 



58 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

Now from their cannon's mouth lightnings outleap, 
Wliose deep-ton'd thunders shake tlie mighty deep, 
And whose gUid voice gave signal to that crew, 
That liope was theirs and safety full in view. 
An answering gun comes booming o'er the wave, 
Bearing this news, "The helpless can be saved." 

'T was twilight's hour ; just at the close of day. 
When mellow light shows objects far away. 
Plainer to view than when the noonday sun, 
With dazzling brightness pours its radiance down. 

" Bear down upon the wreck," the captain cried, 
"Ere darkness cover up the ocean wide. 
And let us see what doth this ship betide." 

A closing valve the strength of steam applies, 
And o'er the sea this vessel swiftly flies, 
In course direct she plows the waters thin, 
To reach the wreck ere darkness settles in. 
She seems a thing of life, whistles and screams 
As if to rouse the sea gods from their dreams. 
Scream answers scream ; the vessel wreck'd replies. 
Trembles the sea, and echo climbs the skies ; 
Still onward flies this messenger of love. 
Guided as by the viewless hand of Jove, 
To where these helpless ones most anxious wait, 
And in dead earnest knock at mercy's gate. 

'T was evening ; all the atmosphere was balm. 
And the extended ocean smooth and calm, 



CANTO V. 59 

When these two stranger vessels side by side, 
Stood still ; and both were mirrorM in the tide, 
When til' captain of the able vessel cried, 
" Why do you float tlie signal of distress ? 
What is your name ? Tell all and nothing less." 

Then answer came : " Our name is ' Ocean's Queen ; 

Our rudder's broke, we're drifting with the wind. 

We safely float, when all around is fair. 

But how uncertain is that wJien^ and where. 

Throw us a rope, and in one moment's flash 

Let us together our two vessels lash, 

That we may use this gently fading light 

For our own good, ere fast appi'oaching night 

Draws heavy darkness on ; and while the sea 

From all turmoil and turbulence is free ; 

Then may each soul on mine to danger known, 

Be quick transferr'd in safety to your own ; 

Then be so kind as to take mine in tow, 

And take her to the nearest port you know." 

He said ; and all the powers tliat be approve, 
The air continued calm, the ocean smooth. 

At his request a rope was quickly flung, 
And both the ships together bound as one ; 
From each to each a broad-gauged platform laid 
O'er which each person walked as not afraid. 
Then quickly followed all the costly freight, 
And every person's baggage of light weight. 



60 , LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Then was the wreck unloosed, pushed off to sea, 
Yet held in tow that it, as said, might be 
Brought to some port of safety near at hand. 
To be repair'd for other work as grand. 
From either siiip columns of steam ascend 
And prop the sky just where the zenitli bends. 
From eacli a pillar vast appears to be. 
High up above and down deep in the sea ; 
Each one of these is tinged with silver gray, 
Around the which appeared to grandly play 
The mellow beauties of departing day. 

All being saved, these vessels onward sweep, 
And plow with majesty the mighty deep. 
Whom angels have in charge to safely keep ; 
One by the other led, they make their way 
O'er tranquil seas toward the setting day. 

Hail, " Ocean's Queen," and hail, O "Rising Day'' ! 

Two prouder ships did never man obey. 

Strength, speed, and beauty were in you combined, 

O noble products of inventive mind. 

There's nothing more deserving of our care. 

Except the lives, the precious lives you bear. 




"Our boy, so full of ])romise and so fair," 
She said, and sigli'd, " still lives, but lives to wear 

a melancholy look. " [ See page 63.] 



CANTO VI. 



While we mark the outward appearance of the vessel, " Ris- 
ing Day," we are invited to look into her rooms and see what is 
there presented to our view, where we shall see Hepnora and 
LaPold seated near together, and a woman walking like a queen 
hastily through the rooms, who proves to be Hepnora's wife, and 
who recognizes him at first sight. Hepnora inquires about her 
welfare and that of their son. She replies, and tells him how they 
have spent their time since he left, and how she had gone in 
pursuit of him, and been shipwrecked, but thereby found him, 
and inquires about the scenes through which he had passed. He 
replies by describing them ; how he had been taken prisoner by 
the pirates, and most of the passengers and crew killed, and their 
vessel burned. 

While outwardly we mark, O "Rising Day," 
Thy noble form, thy bearing and display, 
As through the deep you cut your trackless way, 
Guiding the '* Ocean's Queen" across the sea ; 
Let's look within, and — what shall we behold? — 
Our great Hepnora, of a mighty soul. 
And near to him our young and lov'd La Fold. 
And tripping o'er the deck there may be seen 
A seeming goddess, walking as a queen. 
Her restless eyes show deep within, a soul 
Wliere sorrow oft had walk'd and trouble roll'd. 
Where fell despair had put fair hope to rout • 

[61] 



62 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Hurling the missiles of continual doubt ; 
And great anxiety, like haunting sin, 
Had trampled down tranquillity within. 
Her eyes drink in the vision of the whole, 
And smile as they behold our young La Fold. 

He sees that heavenly smile with one deep blush. 
And childhood scenes back o'er his mem'ry rush, 
And with them comes his Euridice, in truth. 
And smiles on him as she was wont in youth. 
In sweet complacency, in by-gone years. 
When fullest were their hopes and joys and tears. 
Then he remembers her, and those bright eyes 
So full of love which nothing can disguise. 

And while before him walks this seeming elf 

He thus communion holds within himself : 

" Is this not strange ? For look you, once or twice, 

How much indeed she looks like Euridice ! 

" My Euridice oft smil'd from eyes of blue. 
She smiles amid the same soul-touching hue, 
Like glory of the stars her glances shine, 
And such, O gentle Euridice, were thine." 

She wandered on as though she nothing sought, 
When suddenly her eyes Hepnora's caught, 
Then on Hepnora's self, herself did fling. 
And screams aloud, and all the cabins ring. 
Then said, " O my Hepnora, is this you ? " 



CANTO VI. 63 

He, smiling, said, "Nothing can be more true. 
I saw you through a ghiss wliile on the deck. 
Of ' Ocean's Queen,' which late you left a wreck. 
When I beheld your face, so lovely, fair. 
Which had oft smiled on me from everywhere, 
The waters of my feelings broke control, 
And pour'd their rushing floods upon my soul 
All overcome ; that glass I then let fall. 
And broke the instrument much prized by all. 

"But ere I farther wander, tell me, dear, 
What of our boy so full of hope and cheer ? " 

" Our boy so full of promise and so fair," 

She said and sighed, " still lives — but lives to wear 

A melancholy look, and often he 

Would smooth my hair and ask in vain for thee ; 

And made me promise on a certain day. 

While he was chok'd with tears in child-like way. 

That I would seek you out, follow your track 

Through dangerous ways, and bring his father back. 

And for this cause have I set out to sea, 

And been shipwreck'd ; but being wreckVl, found thee. 

O what a life I Ve lived ! — toss'd to and fro 

Between opposing powers, and neither know ! 

"Hope and despair have in my bosom fought, 
Hurling projectiles of most anxious thought. 
First one of them and then the other win, 
Both trampling down tranquillity within. 



64 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"Now victory perches on the side of right, 
You in the balance thrown decide the fight, 
And peace returns witliin, and all is bright. 

"But tell me, dear, about your unknown fate 
Since we last parted — you among the great ? " 

.She said, and paused ; while pour'd from out her eye 
The fullness of her soul. 

He made reply : 
I left my country for my country's cause. 
To execute in foreign lands her laws, 
It being mine, you know, such things to do. 
For this I, sorrowing, left my home and you. 
That all our laws which were to me a charge, 
Observed by us^ might also be at large. 

Those laws divine which long ago were given 

And thunder'd through Mount Sinai from heaven, 

In principle were pressed into our own. 

Though in a different language couchM. On stone 

TJiose were chiseled with Mosaic art, 

Ows penned in books, and written in the heart. 

You know the cause which calFd me from my home 
Which could not justly be ignor'd you '11 own. 

From off your cheeks I kiss'd the falling tear. 
And our sweet prattler said, " My papa dear. 



CANTO VI. 65 

And must jou leave ? I wish I were a man 

(As through his ringlets his small fingers ran), 

Then I would go to that far, far-oif land 

And do for you what you say must be done, 

And leaV'C you here with mother dear at home." 

And then I caught the fullness of his eye. 

And pressed upon his lips a fond good-by ; 

Then hurried off quite lost to self control, 

While thoughts on thoughts paced heavy o'er my soul. 

I reaclrd the wharf where our great vessel lay. 

Conscious of latent power, and proud display. 

Forever busy, bustling Life was there, 

And noisy Clamor did itself declare. 

Some load the ship and for the trip prepare. 

Some the cabins cleanse, and polish them with care. 

Some walk, some talk, and wash, and comb their hair, 

And all within themselves complacent seem, 

And of bright life and future prospects dream. 

I go aboard, not unobserved by these, 

Who ever seek with blandishments to please ; 

Yet from all these I long to turn away. 

And hide from all save Him to whom we pray. 

And there to ever hold before my view, 

The image of our precious child and you ; 

I bearing up a heavy load within 

Like Bunyan's illustrative load of sin, 

Seek out my private berth, by all unknown, 

Save by the captain and myself alone, 

5 



66 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And bid that one of these designed for three 
Should now be set apart for only me. 

Here, hid away from all that noisy throng. 
Thoughts upon thoughts chased kindred thoughts along 
And I could listen to my soul keep time 
In concert with the ever pondering mind. 

Not far away, confusion was without, 

The whistle answered to the noisy shout, 

And heavy wheels with murmurs did declare, 

The load on them was more than they could bear. 

And ever-restless feet forevermore 

The deck kept trampling, trampling o'er and o'er. 

For hours this state of things was kept without^ 
And deep witldn revolving care and doubt. 
And then it seem'd that you were very near. 
And pour'd sweet consolation in my ear ; 
And that our prattling boy was there, and he 
Had left his play to smile on you and me. 

When from this mental reverie I woke, 

O how the water of my memory broke 

O'er every barrier of the just-fled past, 

Bearing upon their billows huge and vast 

The scenes of other days, ne'er to return, 

No matter how the heart for them might yearn. 

But soon was heard a whistle loud and shrill. 
To whose vibrations echo'd every hill, 



CANTO VI. 67 

Loudly proclaiming, '"We are ready now 
And launched there on the trackless deep will plow." 
Then, "All aboard ! " was most distinctly sung. 
From an authoritative voice and tongue. 

Crowds rush on crowds, and the whole vessel fill 
With throngs as restless as the human will. 

Rous'd by the tramp of feet and busy hum 
Of human voices from the old and young, 
I rose and from my private cabin came, 
To see on whom for help we might lay claim. 

On me beholding, from that motley crowd, 
Rose cheer on cheer, continuing long and loud. 

Meanwhile the ship, unmoor'd, glided to sea. 
Bearing away its passengers and me. 
Kiss'd by the gentle zephyrs as they passed, 
She seemed to move upon a sea of glass. 

The rocky shores receded from our view. 
And in our front was one unbroken blue. 
The star-bespangled sky appeared to be 
Both high above, and down deep in the sea. 

Still we push'd on, until on every side 
We nothing saw except the ocean wide. 
Which at the farthest stretch of human eye, 
Seem'd to embrace and kiss the distant sky. 



68 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Moved bj the power of steain still on we went, 
In course direct as though kind Heaven had sent. 
Winds hemgf((lr, and smooth the watery tide, 
We safely landed on the other side. 
And there arrived, were hail'd with loud acclaims 
In honor of oui- country's honored name. 
Our views respected, granted our requests ; 
Were welcomed everywhere as favor'd guests. 
"May friendship ever twixt our people live," 
They cried ; '' May we each othei-'s wrongs forgive. 
And be it known in every land and clime 
That friendship is our own throughout all time." 

Our task completed, which with friendship's hand 
Had join'd our country with a foreign land. 
And meek-eyed Peace her ever prosperous store 
Into our well-fiird laps began to pour. 
Delight and gratitude my being fill'd 
With love to these and to all men good will 

With heart and bosom full, I said good-by, 
And to'ard our native land I turned my eye, 
And thoughts and love of home fill'd all my soul 
And overflow'd in manner strange and droll ; 
And earnest yearnings quell'd my human pride. 
I look'd away bej^ond the rolling tide, 
Took the same ship which brought me to this land. 
And ask'd for power to waft me to the strand. 
As from our vessel rose the breath of steam. 
Through her strong iron lips she gave a scream, 



CANTO VI. 69 

To which the far-off hills gave echo back, 
Then pushed to sea and left behind no track. 

Nine days and nights we made unvaried way, 
Toward our native shore, which far off lay 
Across the sea toward the setting day ; 
When lo ! a vessel to our eyes appear'd, 
And quickly signals of distress uprear'd ; 
Our human feelings rous'd, we nothing knew 
Except to save a shipwreck'd, drowning crew. 

So slowly moving up close to her side, 

And full of sympathy, our captain cried : 

"What is there wrong? and what doth you betide? " 

Like tigers coucli'd to spring upon their prey, 

When least expecting ill, so couchM were they, 

With iron gripes our vessel quickly seized. 

And bound it to their own, just as they pleased ; 

And then they entered with drawn sword in hand ; 

We, taken by surprise, lost all command. 

And weak and helpless yielded to their hands. 

We had to yield regardless of the cost. 

Our only choice was this, — life saved or lost. 

The former was my choice ; for life to me 

Was dear while thinking of my child and thee. 

I gave to them whatever they might ask ; 
"My services and lot with you I cast," 
I said, " and what I can that will I do. 
And all my future plans I '11 cast with you." 



YO LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

A few of US were saved, but more were slain ; 
Death once decreed, all 'pleadings were in vain. 
The sword descended swift without delay, 
And from the body lopp'd the head away. 
Two jutting streams of vital blood gush'd out 
As each man's head came off and rolPd about. 
One of those fellows there made warm appeal, 
And what he said in force I still can feel. 
A tale more touching no one need to tell, 
And while he yet was saying, "Isabelle," 
His head came off, still muttering as it fell. 
Quick as by lightning stroke was closed in death 
His life, his telling language, and his breath. 

One heartless, keen-eyed man went 'round, 
Telling which ones should die, be trampled down, 
Which ones should then receive the fatal wound, 
And close behind him came, with sword in hand, 
A fiercer-looking, life-destroying man, 
And executed all the first's commands. 

I wish you could have seen the awful eye 

Of those who had commanded been to die, 

What floods of thoughts rush'd o'er each thinking mind. 

In those few moments, volumes could not bind. 

To these dread scenes which I a witness were, 
I knew not then what might to me occur. 
Perhaps one moment more would close in death 
My hopes, my life, my senses, and my breath. 



CANTO vr. Yl 

Great seas of thoughts rnshM o'er my anxious soul 
Like mighty waves by angry tempests rolTd. 

Whatever I liatl done was brought to mind. 

I thought of you and couhl not be resigned. 

And when I saw all pleadings were in vain — 

Imploring prayers and floods of tears the same — 

I then resolv'd some other means to try, 

To look most fierce defiance in his eye ; 

Let come what would, I could at most but die. 

I thought I could with an unaided hand 

(If doom'd to die by this unfeeling man) 

Knock the gladiator down, seize his brand 

And in a trice run these two villains through. 

I had resolved on this, and how to do. 

To this I had nerv'd up my every part. 

It fill'd me full and centered at my heart. 

Couch'd like a cat, each muscle was made tense, 

I well was fortified for a defense. 

These two in dooming death had surely fell 

And their black souls been sent to lowest hell. 

And fartlier if assail'd, I 'd die in fight 

Rather than yield submissive in their sight. 

And when this judge came up, the look I gave 

Made liim stagger back, and cry, " Tliis man save.'' 

'T was well for him, and no doubt well for me, 

For there stood arm'd to execute decree. 

Full thirty men, and not a cliance to flee. 



72 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Few were there loft, but most of these were sav'd ; 
Death had been here and every foot-print paved 
With human life most cruelly out-pour\l, 
And necks dissevered by the bloody sword. 
To kill, it seemM^had been their great delight, 
But now it seemM a dread, or rather, fright. 

And thus was clos'd the slaughter of my friends 
For which no earthly power can make amends. 

We captives now unslain were chainM in pairs, 

And from our blood-smear d vessel march VI to theirs. 

Behind each pair a gladiator came 

With naked sword in hand, which flash'd like flame. 

Then all the slain were swallowed by the sea, 

And there lock'd up in caves of mystery. 

Our vessel then was of its treasures sack'd, 
Which fiird their own so full that room was lack'd. 

Our ship so proud, which shortly had before 
Been laden with most precious things in store. 
And brighter minds no vessel ever bore, 
Now emj>ty was, with walls all spattered o'er 
With human blood, and pools were on the floor. 
And those sweet lives it held were now no more. 

No sooner was our stately vessel cleared 

Of bodies, heads, and goods, than there appeared 



CANTO VI. 73 

A man with flaming fagots in his hand, 
And to our ship he gave the burning brand. 

Quickly the flames on the wliole vessel seize, 
They lick the sails and grapple with the breeze. 
High up in air their heated columns pour, 
They hiss, they crackle, and they loudly roar ; 
The mirror'd ocean now reflects the light. 
And from beneath attention now invites ; 
These rolling, flashing flames seem to descend 
And like the ones above in smoke to end. 

There seem'd descending from the burning hulk 
Flames which in motion, color, size, and bulk 
Were like the ones ascending very high. 
Which with their wings did cover up the sky ; 
And as the ones above arose smoke-crownM 
So seem'd to these, descending deeply down 
Till clouds of fire-fed smoke all rob'd in gray, 
Appear'd to cover up the nether day. 

Awhile these flames more grand and brighter grow, 
Both high above and in the deep below. 
For as above these high and higher rise. 
The sea gives back the image of the skies. 

With sadness we beheld our ship on fi]-e, 
Yet gazing thereupon could but admire. 
That grand old ship, expiring, fed a flame 
Of such proportion fancy seem'd in vain. 



74: LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Long time she burn'd sublimely bright 
And to the welkin gave a glaring light. 
When all at once an awful hiss was heard, 
And with that hiss the atmosphere was stir'd, 
Yast clouds of steam and smoke did then ascend, 
Down sank the ship, and all was at end. 



CANTO VII. 



Clouds of steam and smoke from the sunken ship fill the air, 
covering ujj the sky and hiding the setting sun. These clouds 
soon clear away. The pirates confine Hepnora and others in their 
vessel's hold, where they are kept confined until their vessel enters 
these pirates' harbor, which is surrounded by rocks, and hides 
them from the sight of seamen. Soon the vessel stands still, and 
these captives are let out, from whence they spring in great dis- 
gust, and haste from a place of wretchedness and filth. Hepnora 
looks about, and sees nothing to protect these pirates from storms. 
The tide is now at its full, but soon receding, reveals an under- 
ground passage-way leading to an island. In this a horn is blown 
and answered from a source unknown. Soon four honses drawing a 
heavy wagon appeared, which bears the pillaged goods through this 
opening. But soon the tide begins to rise, when they all enter 
into the opening and pass through to the island, where Hepnora 
sees houses built of all forms to shelter these pirates from storms. 
And here he sees very many precious mementos taken from those 
who had been slain by these pirates, and placed here by bloody 
and cruel hands. 

Soon all about was strict tranquillity, 

And lifted just above a peaceful sea 

Were clouds of steam and smoke so vast in size, 

That with their wings they cover'd up the skies, 

And hid from sight the glorious orb of day 

Which in the west was pushing on its way. 

[75] 



76 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

As sank this vessel proud beneath the wave, 

So sink we mortals proud into the grave. 

Awhile we float with health and beauty crown'd, 

But soon disease like flames wraps us around, 

We helpless writhe awhile and then go down ; 

Thick clouds of grief darken the setting sun 

Of friends awhile ; but these soon, too, are gone. 

And not a trace of us is left to say 

We ever lived. Then day succeeds to day. 

The waves of time forever o'er us close 

While we forgotten sleep in death's repose. 

Awhile these solemn scenes impress'd the eye. 
Our vessel had gone down as those who die ; 
The sun serenely crept along its way 
As though this had not been a dreadful day. 

Shortly ivithout no cloud was left behind, 

But those loithin still gloom and darken mind. 

The looks from friends when they were doom VI to die 

Still hang their terrors o'er my memory's eye ; 

To see such heads dissevered by a blow 

From hearts so pure, was not a cortiinon woe, 

And never can forgotten be. The steel 

I see still flash ; and what they felt, I feel. 

It fills me with a pain naught else can give ; 

'T will live within as long as I shall live ; 

Beholding still their crimson lives outflow. 

And hearing still their groans of dying woe. 



CANTO VII. 77 

Now these dare-devils grown intensely bold, 

OontiiiM us captives in their vessel's hold, 

And here in filth and wretchedness confined, 

From all withcjut kept ignorant and blind, 

We were convej'd unto their island home — 

So caird by them, — which 'mid the ocean's foam. 

Rises abrupt with steep and rocky coasts. 

So that a score could hold them 'gainst a host. 

A narrow neck of sea feeds a small bay 
Where ships at anchor might in safety lay ; 
This bay by solid rocks is walFd around 
The same as are upon the island found. 
Which give protection from the storm and wind 
And hide from view what seamen seek to find. 
Here table rocks for them a wharf afford, 
From which with ease these outlaws went aboard ; 
And here they pil'd their plunder, dearly bought 
By price of blood (if that availeth aught), 
Then bore that booty off unto their home, 
Lock'd up in secret, to the world unknown. 

This bay we enter'd which we had not seen. 
Still being kept in hold dirty and mean. 
And soon this vessel all at once stood still, 
The splash of waves no more our senses fill'd ; 
The engine's laboring puff was heard no more 
But voices echoed from an unknown shore. 



78 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

The bolts which held us, quickly were shoved back, 

Which harshly grated in their rusty track ; 

The door upon its hinges open Hew, 

And precious light once more broke on our view, 

Wliich to our senses everything gave shape. 

And our cursed cell with filth and offals draped. 

At this revolting sight which now we saw. 
Where stench and great disorder were the law, 
Tliink you command and order needed we 
For to come forth and be in measure free? 
I tell you, nay, for when that door was swung. 
Like deer-mice caged, we from that prison sprung ; 
And had we been push VI back, pale death had been 
Kather than we in that black vault of sin. 

Having come forth and out-of-doors once gain'd. 

No earthly power could put us back again ; 

These murderous thieves did not that power assume, 

But rather seem'd rejoiced that we had room 

In which to breathe and move in the fresh air. 

Our clothes were daubed and matted was our hair ; 

We look'd the very pictures of despair, 

And were its victims — victims personified — 

And thought it had been well if we had died 

With those dear ones now sleeping 'neath the tide. 

In spite of our sad plight of looks and smell. 
My eyes mark'd well whatever they beheld. 
And here within this rock-surrounded bay, 



CANTO VII. Y9 

Wherein this pirate vessel quiet hiy, 

Close by the wharf which nature's hand hud made, 

From solid rocks of a volcanic grade, — 

I often asked myself, "What do these here 

In times of cold and winds and storms severe ? " 

for looking 'round I nothing here could see, 

Shingle or rocks that could a shelter be. 

Just now the tide was at its fullest flow, 
As marks upon the rocks disclosed below ; 
So were the spirits of these desperate men, 
Living on plunder, now had found great gain. 

What our conditions were they did not care, 
If only they could mock us, curse, and swear ; 
The worse for us the better 't were for them. 
The more they could deride and call us men. 

By eye unpitied, here we helpless stand, 

No power to aid or lend a helping hand ; 

Of peace, of hope, of everything bereft, 

By outlaws guarded on our right and left, 

Our clothes bedaubed with filth — matted our hair, 

" Where can we turn ? O Heaven, tell us where ! " 

In depth of grief, in silence thus we cried, 

While yet we washed in the receding tide. 

Meanwhile their ship with ease they did unload. 
And on the wharf in piles the goods were stow'd ; 
Scarcely a word was said, nor questioned they, 



80 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

What should their shelter be at close of day ; 
But every one seeuf d willing for to wait, 
And trust to the developments of fate ; 
While wretched we were anxious for to know 
What the near future would on us bestow. 

Still down and down sank the receding tide, 

When lo ! an inlet cave stood open wide. 

Through which an ample passage seem'd to be 

Into the island from the tidal sea. 

In this a horn was loudly blown, 

And it was answerM from a source unknown ; 

When one of us exclaimed : ""What do we hear? 

The earth has opened and all hell is near." 

And rumbling wheels and horses' clattering feet 

With much surprise did now our senses greet ; 

And from this cavern's mouth soon did proceed 

A heavy car drawn by four prancing steeds. 

Four sat therein with military air. 

Each wore a face which said, " I do not care." 

And discipline was there of nerve and will, 

Each knew his place and well that place did fill ; 

Each horse well train'd his duty truly knew 

And o'er tlie rocks the ponderous chariot drew. 

Lashed in the course they rein and voice obeyed 

And stood unbid where plunder was display'd. 

At the command at once these did alight 

And fiU'd the car with pillage from the fight ; 

Then word was given which by each horse was known, 



CANTO VII. 81 

The wheels roll'd round, and as they rolPd they 

groan'd, 
And rumble on a pavement made of stone ; 
Back through the cave they hurried on their way, 
And darkness hid them from the face of day. 

As these from sight and gaze did disappear. 

Their clatter slowly died upon the ear. 

The secret to our senses stood confessed, 

Their ways were known, and purposes were guess'd. 

Soon they returned and hurried on their way 

In the same military style as they 

Had left. Again the car with goods they pile 

And hurried them away through this defile 

Made through the solid rocks there at theii- home. 

In dark seclusion and by us unknown ; 

In some dark room by us all unsurveyed, 

And yet unsearched, tliese valuables were laid. 

Returning quick and oft they liurried home 

Like bees with honey from another comb. 

But soon the tide began to slowly rise, 
And entered the cave's mouth before our eyes. 
They knew right well that dangerous was delay ; 
They bade us rise and enter. We obeyVl ; 
But marcli'd mistrustful of eacli object 'round. 
As we this passage entered underground. 

6 



82 LA VOl.n AND EUKiniCE. 

With gloom beniglited seeufd the disnitil way 
As darkness hid us from the face of day ; 
Were led by ruffians skilTd but never kind. 
And push\l along bv arm'd men from behind ; 
Our footsteps echo'd as Ave went it blind. 

As we this labyrinth of gloom did tread. 
The rook about re-echo\l overhead. 
Returning oft, the noise our footsteps nnide, 
Told of projecting roeks and high arcades ; 
Led by the guide, we hurried on our way, 
When soon at distance we beheld the day, 
Which seem'd at first to be a dot of light, 
While all about us were the shades of night. 
But as wo nuirch'd [nud hurriedly we went), 
This dot of light a brighter radiance sent. 
And in circumference seem'd to larger grow, 
xVnd speak a language which we did not know 
Slowly it grew until the yery last 
When light of day was all about us east ; 
And lo, an island stood to us revealed. 
With rocks and hills and vallevs unconcealed. 



Here lived these pirates, shelter'd from the storm 
By houses built of every size and form, 
From such material as they best could find 
On sea or land or both of them combin'd. 
And with such curious workmanship was wrought 
As fancy e'er conceiv'd or knowledge taught. 



* CANTO VII. 83 

And liere these houses hill-surrounded stood, 
And full in front a labyrinth of wood, 
Defiant rose huge rocks on every shore, 
Where tempests how], and billows dash and roar. 
And ocean's waves in all tlieir storni-beat rage, 
Had vainly surg'd about from age to age. 
Thus hem'd about by ocean's strong embrace 
This point was made their operative base ; 
From which against all navies war was waged, 
In which with bloody zeal these all engaged. 
Which was by ])lunder not the least assuaged. 

With eyes observant I these scenes survey'd, 
And well each action of these outlaws weigh'd, 
And in most dangerous i:)]ace8 tliem obey'd. 
Their utmost confidence I souglit to gain — 
Made seem a pleasure what to uie was pain. 

I ran before their wants and sought to fill 
The nomenclature of their wicked will ; 
Each self puffed up, he deem'd himself a god. 
While God hung over each his chast'ning rod ; 
But to all goodness lost, by sin controlled, 
The Hand that goaded, they did not behold. 

Thus Vjeing held, they sought those deeds to find 
Which drove them on to miseiy, mad and blind. 

Here some of earth's most costly things were stored. 
Whose rightful owners had been put to sword. 



84 LA rOLD AND EUllIDICE. 

Whose fall, in glory's hour, by villain's hand, 
Had, as a garb, stretcli'd mourning o'er the land ; 
For which we had resolv'd to make amend, 
And bring these outlaws to a speedy end. 

In this we utterly had fail'd. While they 
Upon the world continually did prey. 
And now they'd fallen upon us, and made 
A mockery of our short-handed blade. 

Here stor'd were gifts which in the sight of Heaven, 

From hearts of deep affection had been given. 

Whose real value would indeed outweigh 

Full many costly things. While truly they 

To the possessor did in truth portray 

Such volumes wealth of words could never give, — 

Volumes that ever speak, and breathe, and live. 

And tell the tale of love of other days 

In manners strange and in heart-rending ways. 

Yet to these thieves were naught more than they 'd 

bring 
When sold for gold unto some earthly king. 
Here lay a rich design inwove with gold. 
And shining hair, most curious to behold. 
It showVl a field, and in that field a heart 
Transfix'd and pierced by Cupid's quivering dart. 

That heart lay bleeding. You could almost swear 
That blood was oozing from the quiver's tear. 



CANTO VII. 85 

No question, this had by a maid been given 

To some brave youth whose soul was now in heaven, 

That he had often kissM it o\;r and o'er 

While ])raying to that God wliom we adore. 

This unto him that tale had often told 

Which she luid told to him in times of old, 

Which was repeated as this gift she gave 

To him who sought the dangerous sea to brave, 

To try his fortune on the restless wave, 

Which something run like this — if I might tell 

Those secret words long kept and cherished well : — 

" This gift I give to you, and may it be 

In mj' own stead while traversing the sea, 

To talk and sweet communion hold with thee ; 

And while this gift upon your shrine I lay, 

Do not upbraid for what I have to say. 

Or my forced words or sentiments betray. 

"Within the inmost recess of my soul 
Tliere is a secret place which jon do hold. 
And though the storms of life do war around. 
Yet still within, your image fix'd is found ; 
By it most strange emotions I am taught. 
It rides reflected on each rising thought, 
And is remirrored in a thousand ways, 
While each reflection whispers forth your praise. 

"Since, then, you are within this inner life ' 
So sacredly enshrined, 'mid war and strife, 



86 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

The thought, How can I hide these things from thee ? 
Time after time intrudes itself on me. 
The more I strive, and longer to conceal. 
The more alive, and stronger the appeal, 
Till tired of war, I yield to its control. 
And show to you your image in my soul. 
And in this gift this bleeding heart behold, 
Bleeding my life away, most strange and droll ; 
And while you view, dear sir^ O gently deal. 
Life's strings are here, life's destiny you seal. 

" Soon you will leave these cherished scenes, and go 

Where ocean's waves shall toss you to and fro, 

And we may never meet again. Ah no ! 

And when amid torn ocean's awful roar. 

Look on this gift and think of native shore. 

And of the giver, who has vainly sought 

To quell love's flame. But effort danger wrought. 

And gave but fuel to that strange, wild fire 

Which she had sought to quench. It rose the higher, 

I yield'd then the field to it and you. 

And to all hope of quelling bade adieu. 

"You have the secret now. Brave youth, forgive 
And generously this costly gift receive." 

Before such vows by such a beauty given 
What man could stand unmoved this side of heaven ? 
This youth could not, nor need I pause to say 
That here and now he gave his heart away. 



CANTO VII. 87 

And in most solemn manner promised he 
Her other life and other self to be. 
And of these vows Heaven a record made, 
But their fulfillment all the fates forbade. 

These pirates cross'd his path and made his grave 
Beneath the sea in some unfathom'd cave, 
Here he doth sleej) and here his life is furPd, 
While o'er him sweep the navies of the world. 

He lies beneath the ocean's swelling tide, 
While she on that of busy life doth glide, 
Nor knows she of the cause of his delay, 
And restless often asks about his stay. 
While looks of sadness she cannot control 
Sit vampire-like upon her naked soul. 

And such is life when sadness holds the rein, 
Its course is misery, and its end is pain. 

Here these mementos in their beauty wreathed, 
And made of artifice which almost breathed. 
Which seem'd to have been wrought by hand divine. 
Now gently whispered to this heart of mine. 

Yet here it was neglected and alone, 

Press'd by most uncouth rocks on shelf of stone. 

And what about the hands who placed it there — 
Those hands of blood and death — what did they care? 



88 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

For the rich lanojuage which it breatird and spoke, 

For wliat it plead, or wliat it did invoke? 

They only joy'd in giving otliers pain, 

And gloi-ied they the most when most was slain, 

When greedily they gathered np this spoil, 

And thonghtless, washed therefrom the blood-stained 

soil ; 
Then in this secret place hid it away. 
Against the coming of a future day, 
WJjen it conld then be sold for earthly gain. 
Counting as naught its cost in human pain. 



CANTO VIII. 



Hepnora explains his condition of mind wliile viewing the 
mementos found on the pirate island ; and while looking around, 
beholds a brace of ringlets which had been taken from his only 
child, which he describes. He weeps and is chastised by a pirate, 
which Hepnora resents with piercing looks ; a])out which the 
pirate makes comments in language he thinks not understood by 
Hepnora, but which Hepnora understood, and seeks to ol)tain their 
good grace by showing his daring disposition. Meanwhile a meal 
is being prepared by skillful cooks, of which the pirates partake 
with a keen relish. The captives are permitted to satisfy them- 
selves on the pirates' leavings. Soon darkness sets in, and the 
captives are put into a miserable cave room, and are here conlined 
all night. But morning at last appears, and the pirates witliout 
are heard discussing their plans of operation for the day. Soon 
the rock is roll'd away from the door of the captives' prison-]ien, 
and morning light streams in, when the captives are let out, and 
allowed to breakfast on the crumbs left by tliesc outlaws, against 
which they spleen. A make-believe breakfast being eaten, the 
captives are commanded to go where they please, as the ocean 
walls them in, which they gladly do. 

These thoughts in haste went swimming through my 

mind, 
While looking 'round on ones of kindred kind, 
Which here neglected and secluded laj, 
So highly prized and valued in their day. 

[89 1 



90 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

In rich design and artifice they shone ; 

E'en in this cave, deserted and alone. 

Now this, now that, my wandering eyeballs view, 

And each memento wakes some feeling new ; 

Some strange emotion of the inner man, 

To picture which I never, never can. 

While wandering thus about in search of what 
I could but vaguely tell, and still cannot, 
When I beheld with grief which set me wild 
A brace of ringlets from our darling child. 

This you had taken from his flaxen hair 

And braided with your hands with skill and care ; 

His name was woven there with strange device, — 

This your own self had done, and done it nice, 

Which you well know was given to a friend 

Who to a foreign country we did send, 

Our cause to try as well as to defend. 

This being here told of his awful end ; 

Familiar were its looks as are your own, 

And at the sight I inwardly did groan. 

The thoughts it did evolve fill'd me with woe ; 

I saw you all as you were long ago, 

And from my eyes the tears began to flow ; 

The sight vibrated every tender tie. 

That once had twin'd about the days gone by, • 

Which threw convulsions on my conquered soul. 

I strove but all in vain to self control ; 



CANTO VIII. 91 

The fountain of my tears thus press'd, out-gush'd, 
And down across my face in torrents rush'd. 

These harden'd wretches saw this torrent wild, 
And cried, "Hold on, young man ; are you a child 
To weep like this and after mother cry ? 
Just stop this booing, and your face make dry ; 
Or we will stop your breath, and take your head 
To let it bleed and weep among the dead." 

These cruel words with iron cloth'd my mind ; 
I gave a look near kindred to the kind 
I gave the other who was dooming death ; 
He too fell back, and held awhile his breath. 
And look'd on me with wonder and surprise. 
As though a sword was leaping from my eyes ; 
I felt there was, and that the flashing steel 
Would in a moment for his vitals feel. 

He, trembling, saw and whispered to his mate : 

" This fellow has the stuff, and dare be great ; 

A man like him with such a pluck and fire, 

If rightly bent, would make what we desire, — 

A leader who for us would fill the bill ; 

A man whose very looks would pierce and kill. 

But let us farther temper him, and see 

If he can have enough of villainy ; 

But him to ruffle be our watchful care, 

For very few of us would hardly dare." 



92 LA rOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

These words were said in sort of nndertoiic 
In language whicli lie thought to me unknown, 
Yet still I heard and understood right well. 
Though thej thought otherwise. But soon I fell 
In line with what he said, and sought to he 
Their devilish chief — chief in h j])ocrisy ; 
And in my waywardness make tlieni to feel 
My daring will whicli unto none would yield 
Save unto death when life had quit the field. 

Meanwhile a meal with culinary care. 
Emitting odors rich, the cooks prepare, 
And appetites made keen hy toil and fast 
Foretell that this will be a grand re])ast. 
Now seated all they watch with anxious looks 
The various movements of the busy cooks. 
Whoso skillful hands the tables do supply 
With tasteful food, whoso steam is rising high. 

A savory smell to every one went round, 
Pi'ompting the sharpened appetite to farther sound 
The source from whence it nxse, and gratify 
Their inward hungerings which aloud did cry. 
Desiring to be fed, and nothing less 
Would satisfy the call from emptiness. 

At signal to the table all proceed, 
And fall to eating as each one has need ; 
While wo, desiring, longing much to know 
If anything they would on us bestow, 



CANTO VIII. 93 

Begin to feel, though every eye had wept, 
That the saliva ghinds our mouths liad wet, 
And thus had sharpened up our sense of taste 
Which felt that nothing now should go to waste. 

With these desires and cravings, war we waged 
While these were served, — to us it seem'd an age, 
And every moment a long, lingering hour. 
While hunger o'er us held its wasting power. 

At length the greedy outlaws got their fill. 

And each the table left to suit his will. 

In all things else strict discipline was served. 

But order here was not in least observed. 

Now here, now there, a vacant seat was made. 

Until they all a vacancy display'd. 

And crumbs and ruins scatter'd o'er the board, 

For some new order earnestly implor'd. 

And toe, in silence that we might be fed. 

E'en from the crumbs promiscuously outspread. 

Our prayers were heard, and thankful too we wei-e. 

As to the board we now were bid repair 

And eat our fill, in manner most unkind. 

Whatever of the fragments we could find. 

The rage of hunger we could not control, 

But fell to eating without stint or hold. 

Our inward cravings put all fear aside, 

And what our hand could reach our wants suj)plied. 



04: LA rOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

What mostly we would loathe and cull uncleaD, 

Now eagerly we ate with relish keen, 

Even the fragments left by hated men 

We, push'd by hunger, eager swallowed then. 

When by the rage of hunger driven astray, 

What one will do, how little we can say. 

To this or that we 'd say we never could, 

Yet when we 're really tried, we '11 find we would. 

■Twas so with us, driv'n by its rage severe, 

We swept the board without regard to fear. 

Ere long another sense upon us crept 

Just as this board had of its crumbs been swept, — 

A sense of being filFd and satisfied, 

Our inner wants and hungerings all supplied. 

Supply and want were even in the game. 

And both were met and satisfied the same ; 

And this was well for both, 't was truly said 

A step to'ard reconciliation made. 

And one remark'd, '" This does foreshadow good 

That we will be a common brotherhood." 

Henceforth I sought to show my inner man 
Or part of him which dared to do and stand 
Where fiercest dangers thickly hung about, 
And face defiant death, and put to rout 
The proudest, fiercest foes who ever dare 
To raise an impious hand to wrong a haii- — 



CANTO VIII. 95 

To hide my better nature, and conceal 
Each warm emotion which my senses feel, 
And in their place to show my daring will 
When danger thicken'd, threat^iing me with ill. 

As we were till'd, the tables also clear'd, 
For all the eatables had disappeared ; 
Darkness began to close this dreadful day 
Which had been thrown along life's fitful way. 

The order being given, these scenes we leave 
And a dark room the whole of us receives. 
And here in silent darkness and alone, 
We ponder on our fate and inward groan. 
All of our past through niem'ry we survey, — 
Those happy days forever pass'd away. 

Imprison'd thus — the very worst made known — 

We, gloonrd in thoughts, our dreadful fate bemoan'd, 

And as we view'd those happy days gone by 

When all our joys were full, and hopes were higli ; 

The dreadful opposite came up to view, 

And harass'd up our feelings all anew ; 

Each thought, "Ah wretched us ! where are we now ? " 

See gathering gloom upon each clouded brow. 
Thick dangers are without, and many a snare. 
And in our souls deep down, ah, what is there ? 
Fierce, howling demons mock our every ])rayer, 
And stalking in our midst is fell Des])air 



96 LA I'OLD AND EUKIDICE. 

Overturning all our }3oace. What does it not ? 
What shall we do i O Heaven, tell us what ! 
These to escape, O where shall we repair i 
Eternal powers above, direct us where ! " 

Thus in our agony of soul we cried, 
And earnestness the want of voice supplied ; 
Yet heaven above us seemed unyielding brass, 
And every plea was back upon us cast. 

By grief convulsed, and writhing to and fro. 

Deep buried in unmitigated woe. 

We in this darkness grop'd. What could we know 

But the deep sorrow which was on us piled. 

To mountain height, so huge, and deep, and wild 

That all things else were shut out from our view i 

Great drops of sweat like those of heavy dew 

Stood out on every brow. Yet sorrow here. 

Where brazen eyes had never known a tear, 

Was naught — where hands had shed the vital blood 

Of this world's noblest sons kjjown since the Hood. 

That night our beds and pillows were of stone. 
Our prison walls the same, which to each groan 
Gave speedy echo back. While torture wild 
Stalk'd in our midst, and on us misery piled, 
Which to describe I never, never can. 
Though given all the gifts possessed by num. 
The tale of awful woe these walls could tell. 



OANTU vm. 97 

Would of tlicniselvc's make full a Dante's hell, 
And ours would be witliout a })arallel. 

Yet notwithstanding all, that night went by, 
And morning streak'd the oriental sky ; 
And as it did, all things were stir without. 
Among the murderous villains roundabout. 
Who talk'd about the order of the day. 
What plan would be most likely in its way 
To seize upon and gain the sought-for prize. 
Which in their dreams did now before them rise. 
And as their luck was good the day before. 
And much was added to their stolen store. 
They were more anxious that this day should bring 
To their own cherish'd spoils as rich a thing. 

Some one, and some another plan, preferr'd. 
And some of them approved, and some demurred. 
They loudly talked while we in silence heard, 
And listened to their every plan and word. 

At length it was resolved all should be left 
To the bold leader of this murderous theft ; 
And all would acquiesce and him obey 
Through all the coming dangers of the day. 

Soon, ^''Breakfast .^" rang in the same husky way 
As " Supper ! " had on the preceding day ; 
All rush'd and push'd, each pirate found his place. 
And fell to eating without form or grace. 
7 



98 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

These being served, without tlic least delay 
The rock which barr'd our door was rolTd away, 
Aud through the opening streamM the light of day. 

Hail, glorious light ! most wondrous and most fair 
Of all God's blessings, none with you coni])are ; 
He spoke the word, and from the depths of night 
You sprang^ full-fledg'd, O ever-wondrous light, 
With radiance cloth'd. Your many-color'd bow 
Was then about your mystic form, as now 
We see it hung about Niagara's brow. 

To us tired men how sweet its presence then ; 
Our very soids sprang up, and cried, '•'- Arnen I " 
As we were ordered from this prison-pen, 
Right forth we came as gladly to obey, 
And breathe fresh air, and see the light of day. 

At once we view'd all things which were around. 
The sea, the air, the sky, and solid ground. 
And through a passage or a rough-hewn door. 
We entered the same room where night before 
We sliar'd the supper I have just described, 
And scattered crumbs again our wants supplied. 
Yet not so pierced were we with hunger keen 
And against almost everything we spleen'd, 
As being somewhat filthy and unclean ; 
And very little from that board we chose. 
The crumbs and leavings of our pirate foes. 



CANTO YIII. 99 

Nor were we long partaking of tliis meal ; 

But thought chased thought along, and banished 

weal — 
Most dreadful thoughts which you can never know — 
Those hasy thoughts which ever come and go, 
Now stripped of joy and laden down with woe. 
This sad condition surely was our own. 
Yet to each other we made nothing known ; 
Then surely mine reverted back on you, 
Your image I held sacredly to view. 
And prayed to God that he 'd those ties renew. 

Great waves of feeling surged within ray breast 
To mountain height, and would not be suppress'd, 
Again these press'd the fountain of my tears 
Whose flood I kept pent up within for fears. 

As when by tempests driven, great billows roll 
O'er ocean's boundless face, which strange and droll 
Dash on the shore ; then sink to the unknown, 
Deep underneath, within their secret home ; 
Sea press'd in the unmeasured depths beneath, 
Silent and dark, only to find relief, 
When by some deep and stirring cause again 
They' re brought to float upon the liquid plain — 
So these sank down in chambers of my soul 
While others held o'er me a strange control, 
And touch'd a hidden spring, when forth you rose 
With form most fair, refresh'd by sweet repose. 



100 LA FOLD AN1> KUKIDICE. 

And floated o'er the niirror of my mind, 

Like H fail- cloud upon a peaceful wind, 

Breathing its inspiration, soft and kind. 

And for awhile serenity prevailed 

And full-fledged Hope on mental breezes saiTd, 

Which proniisM brighter, fuller joys to come. 

When you and I should meet again as one. 

But soon a cyclone of abject despair, 

Swept through my very being, everywhere. 

And leveled ev'ry hope. While fitful Care 

RaisM up its head and shouted, '' Victory ! " 

This urged disconsolation on its way ; 

And as that voice was echoed round and round, 

All things opposed were level'd to the ground. 

The gloom seeni'd stretch'd eternally away. 
And reason shut therefrom the light of day. 
Here sure we are and must forever be. 
My reason often whispered unto me. 
And then my mind would settle into gloom, 
And future hope find not a foot of room. 

Yet still behind all this there strangely fell 
An unknown voice, which said, "All may be well." 
Though all things wei'e adverse, I could but feel 
Its strange vibrations through my senses steal. 

Thus in my breast there was set up a war 
Between the light of hope and fell despair. 
Rolling from side to side the weighty car 



CANTO VIII. 101 

Of deep anxiety, w^liieh as it rollVl 

Ground 'neath its tread the heartstrings of the soul. 

No doubt tlie others had within their minds 
Deep thoughts and feelings of a kindred kind, 
Which weighed tliein down in life's great vital scah; 
So that their appetites and senses fail'd. 

A few mouthfuls of crumbs we swallow'd down, 
More for a pretext than for real ground. 

Thus gloomy thought went striding through each 

breast, 
Disturbing peace and miird'ring every rest ; 
These also hung a gloom o'er every way, 
And slmt therefrom the hope of coming day. 

Thus liem'd about, O tell me — what could we, 
But yield ourselves to woe and misery ? 
And who could taste of breakfast at this hour 
Except by exercise of the will-power ? 

With sort of make-believe we breakfast ate 

Then folded up our arms, and back we sat ; 

As unmistakably to say, " We're done, 

And further orders wait," when up there sprung 

A man of features sharp and visage young, 

And spoke with an authoritative tongue, 

" Pris'ners, arise and go without delay, 

And be at liberty throughout the day. 

The ocean walls you 'round ; go, come, or stay ; 



102 LA FOLD AND ETJRIDICE. 

Our rules are binding here, and you oheyP 
We heard with pleasure, and with joy obey'd. 
As glad we were to be from dungeon freed ; 
At once we rose, nor further orders sought, 
And forth we went as if from prison brought ; 
We breathed again blest heaven's vital air. 
And as we had been bid, we sought to share 
A day of freedom, though amid despair. 

This island now was open to us all. 

Which seeni'd a broad and ample field (though small). 

Above that cave which did ourselves enclose, 

That^ over this in lofty grandeur rose. 

A da}' to us from pain and labor free. 
Upon this island in immensity, 
Was broadest liberty when we compare 
This to the lot which had been ours to share. 
Within the vessel's hold and prison-pen 
(Which Heaven grant we may not see again). 

We felt ourselves enlarged, though poor and small, 
And gloom'd of mind. Yet notwithstanding all 
This bitterness of soul, wormwood, and gall, 
There was a sort of joy which weird up through 
The whole, o'erflowM, and did us all imbue. 



CANTO IX. 



At early day the pirates put to sea, leaving tlieir disabled be- 
hind to guard their stolen store. Also Hepnora and brother cap- 
tives are left to stroll about the island as they please, vpho view 
with adminition the various scenes about them. They, six in 
number, then seat themselves on a mossy stone and each proceeds 
to relate his history. Hepnora first tells his, which is well known 
to his wife, to whom he is talking. The ne.xt conceals his name 
and his country's, but tells an interesting story of his debauchery 
and downfall, over which they all weep and sob. Soon they 
recover themselves, and all talk together. Three tell a short tale 
of their lives. One had been sent as a minister to treat with a 
nation, and had fallen into the hands of these pirates. And one 
had sought and found a fortune in a foreign land, which he was 
bringing home. Now all was lost. Another tells how long these 
scenes will be remembered, which ends this canto. 

At early morn these pirates put to sea 
To execute tlieir round of villainy, 
And to bring back tlieir most unholy gain, 
To this lone islg, this isle of crime and pain. 

A few, who most were cripples, staid behind 
To guard the mutual interest of their kind, 
And to watch over their well guarded store 
While the main body sought abroad for more. 
And idle we, according to our charge 
Now roaniM abroad (to suit our wills) at large. 

[103] 



104 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Yet. we who captives were, were captives still, 
Thouij^li left behind to wander at our will ; 
This isle our cell, by ocean walTd around, 
Roofd hy the sky, and floorM by the roui>-h iijnnind. 

For a short time we all together walk'd 
(Six was our number) and together talkVl, 
ViewM the same scenes from cliffs and from defiles, 
And from volcanic rocks heap'd u]> in ])iles, 
And each though rough, defiant, rude, and wild, 
Look'd grandeur forth, and on us seem'd to smile, 
These smiles we oft returned ; yet, wretched, we 
As oft would sigh and wish that we were free. 

We, brothers in affliction, hand in hand 
LoiterM about in this curs'd pirates' land ; 
And then we sat upon a mossy stone. 
And freely talk'd about our days bygone. 
And here, remov'd from every human ear. 
Where nothing living save ourselves ccnild hear, 
Each one set forth his own historic tale, 
And all our bitter fate did now bewail. 

But first of all they wished me to relate 
My full events of life, its love, its hate. 
Its joy and woe, and everything combined, 
Which link'd me to the world and all mankind. 

O need I say how full my bosom grew 
As memory like a magic lantern threw 



CANTO IX. 105 

Its pictures on tlic canvas of the soul, 
So like to life and vivid to behold ! 
In which you ]>laj\l a ])art so strange and droll, 
Wherein our own was made a common lot. 
And how to have it different each had sought ; 
How every effort made availM us naught, 
We loved each other, and that love would out. 
You know it all. I rose u])on my feet, 
And told the tale with pathos most complete. 
Then I sat down and lookM in every eye, 
For sure, and not a living one was dry. 



The next arose ; and I remember well 
His downcast looks as from liis mein they fell, 
But to describe those looks I never can 
Though I were given all the gifts of man ; 
From side to side he rolTd his gifted eye 
Which seem'd to swim in seas of misery. 

Fill'd full of clustering memories, he sigh'd, 
Met each inquiring glance, and thus replied : 
"My name and country I will not reveal. 
Our mutual good now bids me to conceal. 
Once fame and wealth and glory were my own. 
And a pure heart to a bless'd people known. 
My parents both alive, whole-souled, and free 
(As parents only can), doted on me, 
And chances for improvement on me piPd, 
Tltey being rich, and /, their onlij child. 



106 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"They thought me gifted as by nature bom, 
And all they had to do, was to adorn, 

"And I was proud that I could them repay, 
And made my mark in almost every way. 
And while I rode on fortune's topmost wav^e, 
And mingled voices cried, ' God save the brave ! ' 
There then was added to these joys of life, 
A heavenly minded and devoted wife. 

" Then what a heaven on earth was mine ! 

They call'd me noble, of a generous mind. 

And that my wife was near or qxdte divine." 

And here he chok'd — great tears came tumbling down. 

He sobM aloud., and so sob'd we around ; 

But gathering up at last his self-control, 

He said in all the fullness of his soul, — 

"In every rank alike her honor shone 

And charity and wisdom were her own. 

"But when our joys were full and spirits gay, 
All unforewarned came dismal death's array. 
And bore the angel of my life away. 

" Oh what a stroke ! About it who can tell? 
It changed my little heaven to a hell. 

"I then for first was introduced to grief, 

From whose dread hauntings there was no relief. 

Her gloomy shades were with me everywhere — 



CANTO IX. lOY 

At home, abroad, e'en while engaged in prayer. 
And froze me with the rigors of despair. 

" All things I tried without the least relief; 
Still ever present with me was this (jrief ; 
Wide staring at me with her hollow eyes 
Brimful of woe and sadness and surprise. 
And breathing out regrets. Torments arose, 
And strewed my walks with soul-convulsive throes. 
Thus torn and liem'd about, what coukl I then, 
O tell me, ye experienced sons of men, 
Thau do what many others have as well, — 
Drain that cursed cup, that beverage of hell ? 

" I drain'd it sure, and like to others fell, 
And can the same old wretched story tell. 

"There had been walking with me nimble Fame, 
Now in its stead came hobbling, limping Shame. 

"Great was the contrast then which met my sight 

As I came up from drunkenness to light ; 

And every look of that distorted face 

Kepeird me back to darkness and disgrace. 

In haste I drain'd the drunkard's cup anew 

To hide these scenes — these hated scenes — fi-om view ; 

And to restraint of morals bid adieu. 

"My friends forsook me then, and with a sneer. 
Each slyly whispered in the other's ear. 



108 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

' He 's gone to ruin, stranded in disgrace, 
A victim to Old AlcohoPs embrace ; 
His noblest deeds with drunkenness he blots, 
And jeers and wallows with tlie worst of sots.' 

"To me there was a meaning in their tone ; 
I grop'd along in darkness and alone, 
Not daring my condition to behold. 
When soberness the reins of mind control I'd. 

"They said, ' 'Twas his to always go astray 
But for his wife. She kept him in the way.' 

" No doubt her virtues did increase my own. 
Her judgment was correct in all things known, 
And when we differed, if we differed long, 
'T was but to find at last myself was wrong. 

"I highly prized her worth, — no one could more, — 
And when I heard that worth extoll'd, it bore 
Down like a mountain on my bosom's core ; 
Or like an iron it was through my being rusli'd. 
While from the wound a stream of anguish gush'd, 
Which foam'd and froth'd and mix'd and roil'd. 
And upon me great heaps of debris pil'd. 

"All things to me were naught but blackness then. 
Which hid me from the quizzing gaze of men. 
To drown my grief I sought my cups again, 
But drowning was but brief ; and for a time 



CANTO IX. 109 

That drunkeDness beclouded up my mind, 
And when I to my rightful senses came, 
The first thing which I saw was limping Shame, 
Who lean'd with increased heaviness on me, 
And grown so large in fits of revelry 
Which had on me increased in frequency 
That twice I had to look to see its size, 
Bulky in form, yet towering to the skies. 

'' Prodigiously it rose, shapeless and tall. 
And with its gloomy shadows covered all. 
Shame and disgrace above, ruin below. 
Deep in this pit of unremitting woe, 
Where demon passion howled on either side — 
Blunted in sense, and stung by selfish pride — 
Where could I turn ? O God of heaven, tell ! 
To free me from the torments of this hell ? 

"From my sad plight my parents turn'd away ; 
Disgraced and sickened by my mad array, 
My mother fell a victim to her care, 
And father followed, driven hj despair. 

" Sad were the scenes which followed then and there ; 
The grave had covered all by me held dear. 
My name was but a leaf, withered and sear. 

" The drams which had intoxicated me, 
And which I 'd sought to drown my misery 
Had kill'd my mother (who beheld me so) 



110 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

By lingering; grief repeating blow on blow ; 
Mj father followed, both from grief for her 
And the disgrace my actions did incur. 

''To drown my woes with wine I sought again, 
And thereby fasten'd on my nearest friends 
A deeper one. 

All now was darkest night ; 
My parents both were gone, murdered outright 
By my low drunken sprees and wretched plight, — 
The world for me had not a ray of light. 

" From me each earthly pleasure having flown, 

I now was left to grope my way alone. 

I father's mansion sought, once my sweet home. 

But silence death-like reigned. No sound was known, 

No well-known voice to welcome me was there. 

Death had blown out the lights. 

Each vacant chair 
Reproved me ; and each vacant room too said, 
' You are the only cause.' O wretched deed ! 
The thought went down into my soul with speed, 
Arousing pangs along the vital way. 
Which all my utmost powers could not allay ; 
It me with murder charged and nothing less. 
I vainly strove to shut this from my breast ; 
And as I strove and all my powers were tried. 
Its voice within me still the louder cried, 
' Thou parent murderer ! ' while out at large 
I could not well deny this awful charge ; 



CANTO IX. Ill 

Its voice within luu never could be stillVl, 
But its accusings my whole being fill'd. 

"And when I sought from these to turn away, 
They hedg'd me 'round and held me there at bay. 
As raving wolves, blood-thirsty from their lair, 
Snap their dread jaws, and their cursed teeth make 

bare. 
So this dread voice for slaughter loudly liowl'd, 
Devoured all peace, and while devouring, growl'd. 
And while within me its accusings raged. 
Some sacred spot where wife had been engaged 
Would touch my memory in so strange a way. 
My loss anew would on my feelings prey. 

"That curious touch my soul gates left ajar, 

Through which I could behold as a fair star 

The place from which I 'd fallen — O how far ! — 

From heights of virtue, innocence, and fame. 

The which I never, never could regain. 

Slipp'd in one moment ! How? O who can tell? 

I stumbled into drunkenness, and fell 

Down from an earthly heaven to a hell. 

"The spots where joy had crown'd me oft before. 
Within my heart I wish'd to see no more. 
The simple footprints of my death-lost prize 
Wounded with cruel grief my sleepless eyes. 

"To me all earthly treasures now were lost 
Save sordid wealth, and that was white with frost. 



112 La fold and euridice. 

The very touch of which woukl chill lue through, 
And probe the gaping wounds of grief unew. 

'' From native land I sought myself to free, 
And try my fortune on the ruthless sea ; 
From thence a common lot was all our own ; 
Our ship was boarded, and the whole is known. 

"You have the secret now which long has weigh'd 

Down on my heart, and cast a deadly shade. 

What future fortune doth on us await 

Is only written in the book of fate, 

And from all creatures God doth this conceal. 

Lest we the march of fate itself should steal." 

He said ; and sat with manly mein and grace ; 

Then look'd inquiringly in every face 

To see if any sympathy was there 

For his grief-stricken heart, — a heart left bear 

And ravaged by debauchery and care ; 

Nor look'd he long, ere there began to flow 

A well of sympathy for human woe 

From every heart here present at this hour. 

He saw and felt at once its heavenly power, 

And when he saw, he knew, though young of years, 

And knowing, burst into a flood of tears, — 

Heart-broken tears, which almost set him wild, — 

He soVd and toejjt as sobs and weeps a child ; 

And in between these sobs and falling tears 

Quite brokenly he said, yet quite as clear : — 



CANTO IX. 113 

" O Sjnipatlij, who thought to see joa here ! " 
Then, overcome iiiid broken down, he said : 
" O /S//N/jM/f/i//, I thou<;lit that you wei-e dead ; 
Yet here jou are, within this isle of crime ; 
You have endured and will endure with time, 
And when the least expected we will find." 

He ceased to speak, yet still he sobVl and sigh'd ; 

In sobs and sighs each one of us replied. 

And so we all together, child-like, wept. 

While strange emotions through each bosom crept. 

At length our sobs were stilTd, and tears were dried, 

And we again stood up in manhood's pride. 

Stood up in soul while our poor bodies sat. 
Silent awhile, and then together chat. 
Three told their tale of life of other days, 
Which had been mix'd and blended many ways 
With condemnation, woe, and joy, and praise. 

One had been sent, a minister of state, 
Unto another kingdom, proud and great, 
To settle what had long been in debate. 
This people anxiously was waiting then. 
While, intercepted thus by these vile men. 
Both lands must suffer for this shameful cause. 
And kept estranged by breakers of all laws. 

While here to him all things were black as night, 
Without the smallest hope or ray of light. 
8 



114 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

Another said be 'd sought a far-otf clime, 

To visit friends he 'd long since left behind, 

And seek a fortune on a foreign shore 

Which he had found, and which the vessel bore, 

By pirates sackM, only the day before. 

And what was life to him, of all stripM bare, 

Except the thickest blackness of despair ? 

Life had been spard to him that he might be 

The naked son of abject misery ; 

And as our vessel, sunk on ocean's tloor. 

In depths unknown must be forevermore. 

So must his life a wreck forever be. 

Beneath the ocean of immensity, 

His lot and fate eternally unknown 

To all of those who would such fate bemoan. 

Another said these ties now being tied 

By brothers in affliction, side by side, 

Would live forever in the throbbing breast, 

And nothing these from us could ever wrest ; 

But on the mem'ry pressed would quickly rise 

And every other feeling there chastise, 

And stretching out an undisputed reign, 

Would bind our hearts in friendship's endless chain. 

And whatsoe'er in life our lot should be, 

In peace or stormy war, captive or free, 

'T would be enough to make us steadfast friends 

To say, " I shared with you the pirate's den." 



CANTO X. 



Open Neveryield, to five others seated upon u mossy stone, 
tells the story of his life, which is one of love, lie ])roduce8 his 
and his yirl's letters. Tells a dream he had about her, and other 
things pertaining. 

"Friends," then, I said, "how is it now with jou ? 
Behold that silent youth, how sad to view ! 
Within his heart there is an unknown grief. 
Let's hear his tale, 'twill give him short relief." 

"Let 's hear ! " "Let 's hear ! " around that circle ran. 
"Let's hear yotir tale, downcast, pale-faced young 

man — 
Your tale of life complete and full relate, 
Unroll, as it has been unroll'd by fate." 

He forward bending rose upon his feet 

With air majestic, movement quite complete, 

Which show'd true culture in its broadest sense — 

A conscience and a soul void of offense. 

First from his breast there roU'd a heart-heaved sigh, 

Then bent a meaning look in every eye. 

How full of telling language was that look ; 
It told more truth than could a well-fiU'd book. 

[115] 



116 LA FOLD AND EURlfilCE. 

It held its fuU-stamp'd pages up to view, 
And trtuglit us many lessons deep and true, — 
How by the outward index we could find 
The deep-laid principles of every mind, 
And trace those deep-laid principles within. 
Whether in weakness laid, or strength, or sin. 

In mildness and in meekness he began : 
"Forgive me, friends, forgive me, every man, 
The tale you bid me tell is one of love. 
Though you may smile, yet by the fates above, 
I never wish a stronger power to know 
Than this, a laughing-stock it is although, 
To every other one except the victim tried. 
Yet more to him than all the world beside. 

" The height and depth of love — O who can tell ? 
Requited, it is heaven, — rejected, hell. 
Whom'^e'er it will, with silken cords it chains. 
The strength of which no mortal man can name. 
Though standing out opposed is every vow, 
It has chain"'d others, and it chains me now. 

" You bid me my past history relate, 
To life unroll as it has been by fate. 

"My name, as given, is Open Neveryield, 
That of my country cannot be conceaPd ; 



CANTO X. 117 

For blest Columbia, freedom's glorious prid 
Will on the wings of fame forever ride. 

" But to mj story I will now proceed, 
And mark my varied life, dotted with deeds 
Resulting in my final overthrow, 
And bringing me to this sad state of woe. 

" Behold me now, a boy on that far shore 

Of youthful days, which can be mine no more ; 

By grand and rustic scenes his mind is fired, 

And his whole soul seems wrought as if inspired ; 

Where mountains tower in majesty aloft. 

And plains and valleys spread their carpets soft ; 

Where life, replete with joy and comfort, smile, 

And birds sing songs without a thought of guile. 

' ' Just watch awhile and see that boy appear 

Where field and forest do each other near. 

A sudden fall of spotless snow that day 

Had whitened all, and hung on every spray 

A pearly wreath, as though in fullest bloom. 

That boy, o'erjoy'd to leap and shoot, found room. 

But while amid these highest ecstasies, 

He look'd about and to his great surprise, 

He saw near by him, just before his eyes, 

A man encircled by a wooden wall, 

Seated upon a chair of stone not small. 

And writing on a desk of solid stone, — 



118 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Both desk and cliair from the same marble hewn, 
And not a flake of snow on all was shown. 

" Upon this desk the man did lean and write, 
The boy could see him every line indite. 
So very near, it almost toucITd ids sight ; 
Long time he stood, fixed and amazed. 
And wondering, on it most intensely gazed. 

" What could this be at such a time and place. 
In this deep wood, and day's broad, open face? 
And then a tremor crept through every nerve 
Which firmest resolutions could not swerve ; 
And yet his youthful lungs no volume lack'd. 
He shouted loud, and echo answer'd back. 
Then all was silent, save the patting snow, 
Which from the branches fell to ground below. 

"This seem'd to him like Peter's vision old 
Let down from heaven within a snowy fold. 
The which to him was sacrilege to touch, 
And nearer to approach was far too much. 
But being filFd with awe and conscious dread, 
lie with a fluttering heart, now homeward fled. 
Passing a rise of ground which hid the view, 
He paus'd, and questioned to himself anew, 
' Why should I leave unsolved this vision queer? 
Why ]U)t probe up the cause and all make clear? ' 
Then turning 'round, he said, 'I will,' 
And hurriedly repassed a little hill. 



CANTO X. 119 

From whence all things appeared the very same ; 

Then tremblings seized him which he could not name. 

Back to his childliood home he quickly came, 

And there confidingly a brother found, 

And brought unto this very spot of ground, 

But what they sought was nowhere to be found. 

The ])lace by his retui'iiing tra(;ks was known, 

But that (jueer vision had forever flown. 

And not a single ti'ace was left behind, 

Save in tlie chandlers de(!p of that boy's mind ; 

But there on hidden canvas of the soul 

Thrown as by nuigic was this vision droll, 

Which though a secret was to him alone. 

Did change his course in life to all things known. 

That secret to himself most sacredly was kept, 

And unrevealM within him it is yet. 

"That boy has grown to manhood, and a change 
In everything is wrought. It was not strange 
That he believed he could himself control. 
Could quell each wrong emotion of the soul, 
Could speak some fitting word and wrath assuage, 
When others smote their fists and swore for rage. 
In this he felt a ])ri(le, — perha])s 't was vain, — 
And on this one thing might have been insane. 

" The home where he was lov\l, he now must leave, 
To drink from wisdom's fount. Tliis him did grieve ; 
And yet there was a voice which said he must ; 
So in the King of kings placing his trust. 



120 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

He in a land of strangers walkM alone, 

Not caring by the fair ones to be known ; 

Though these around him smiling, thickly came 

He heeded not, for he had higher aims. 

He hated beauty's slave who flatterM for to win. 

And won that she might wound. That hate in him 

With iron guards fenced his distrustful mind. 

Seeking by strong resolves to fill design, 

When unexpected came a little maid, 

And in his secret soul her image laid. 

" How much surprised he was to find it there. 

While once in search of thought. With greatest care 

He rais'd it up and brought it to the light, 

This to eject he tried with all his might ; 

But all such efforts seem'd to be in vain. 

And was the cause of restlessness and pain. 

And when he 'd rais'd it up to cast away, 

It suddenly fell back to his dismay. 

" The shock he felt within, as thus it fell, 

Is not within the power of man to tell. 

Great waves receded to each vital shore, 

Bearing most strange emotion evermore, 

As though a stream through life's great channel went, 

And through his being trickling streamlets sent ; 

And when his eyes met hers, that stream would swell 

And overflow its banks, and rush pell-mell 

Into the recess of the swelling soul. 

Drowning each resolution made of old — 



CANTO X. 121 

Those resolutions which most phiinly said, 
'We will not yield to uny earthly niaid.' 
He sought by all things, this to overcome, 
But in the seeking, ever was outdone. 

" ' I will bar up the stream thus made,' he said, 

' And thereby clioke at once the fountain head ; ' 

But when 't was done, the stream still higher rode. 

And fill'd his breast, and soon the bar o'erfiow'd ; 

And the cataract it caused made wild work, 

In which he saw his certain ruin lurk, 

And saw at once (to him no little pain) 

That mastership of his own self was vain. 

He would to her lay open all his soul 

And show the love he could not now control ; 

And if returned, happy would be their lot. 

And here the whole should end, if it was not. • 

"Thus it was done. For at one twilight's close. 
Just as the moon full-orb'd one night arose, 
I saw him write the im])ulKe of his heart. 
While in it poised was Cu])id's quivering dart. 
Though notwithstanding every effort made 
Was to oppose and cast the whole in shade. 

"Adverse to all love's claims, he'd placed his ])ovvcm- 
Back'd by most firm resolves made every hour ; 
Yet each exertion was far worse than vain, 
And served as fuel thrown into the ilame ; 



122 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Consumption of the which, fed a strange fire, 
And caus'd the flame to mount up still the higher. 

"Long time he strove, till tired of useless strife, 
Whose bow sent back its arrows through his life, 
He gave up all : and by the moonlight wrote 
Unto this cherished girl this little note. 
This said, he (from an inside pocket near 
His beating heart, a place to him most dear) 
Drew out some letters wrapped in a strange way. 
As though they had been read day after day. 
Unfolding one, continuing, he said, 
' This is that note. I wrote it ; ' and he read : — 

' ' LETTER. 

"One moment from life's crowded tide I snatch 
To show the way, the secret door unlatch, 
Which leads into my soul. Walk in and view. 
Behold, the mistress of this room is you. 

"Here hid away in chambers all unseen. 
In which your name is registered as queen. 
Behold the likeness of your glowing mien ; 
And while vi'ithout sweeps life's most turbid care, 
Yet fixed within is found your image fair, 
Which thrown on hidden canvas of the mind 
Shows life and beauty there both well defined. 

"Since, then, you 're pictured in this inner room. 
In spite of all the powers I can assume, — 



CANTO X. 123 

For I have tried to banish it my best, 

And yet it shines and will not be suppress'd, — 

condescend a living hope to give, 

That I may breathe anew. So may you live 
And all the love-wealth of my soul receive. 
These halls of science both of us must leave, 
And o'er the parting scene each heart will grieve. 
While each of us to other lands must go ; 
And shall we ever meet again, or no ? 

" O in some simple, full-of-meaning way. 
In your reply to this say that we may. 
And may you be noio and ^forever blest, 
And of life's jfcys as of its gifts possessed, 
And may your future be a blooming field. 
And all your heart my own. 

" O. Neveryield. 

" 'T was done, I fold'd up the penciPd sheet 
Which was next day the loved one's eyes to meet, 

1 could not say whether with smilG or frown. 
And now at midnight's hour I laid me down 
To slumber with the world. 

In dreams that night 
Appear'd to me that maiden, loved and bright ; 
She came and strew'd wild flowers about my feet. 
And twined within my hair blossoms most sweet. 
Then ran away, while in her arms she held 
Still others which in clusters strangely fell. 
Formed into fragrant words correctly spell'd, 



12'i LA I'OLD AND EURIDICE. 

Which read, ' Loug-cherish'd man.' Then she withdrew, 
With looks of love still pressing on mj view. 
That dream did all my boasted powers subdue. 

"Next morning with the sun I rose, a slave 
To feeling which this dream a being gave, 
Tender emotions which I could not name 
Rendered each former resolution vain. 
And conquered that self-ruling power within, 
Which I had thought impregnable. What sin ! 
That day whene'er I look'd on that fair maid, 
New worth and beauty rose to claim their aid. 

" I felt love's ocean rolling in my breast, 
At whose great depth I trembled, I confess ; 
For well I knew if adverse winds should blow, 
Its waves would bury me in deepest woe. 

"With trembling hand and bosom full of hope, 
I gave to her the moonlight-written note. 

"Receiving it, she blush'd and turn'd away 
And hasten'd to her room. But O, that day! 
The spot, the street, the sunshine, and the shade. 
The clouds, the sky — all tilings of every grade 
Pertaining to that great, eventful hour, 
Live in me still in fullness, strength, and power; 
And sup at the same board wlfieh feeds my thoughts. 
And by them strange emotions I am taught. 



CANTO X. 125 

" Now anxious hours rolFd on. At length she gave 
To me the answer which I so much craved. 

"As hurriedly as she, I sought my room, 
To read the note which held my future doom. 
The seal I tore with trembling heart and hand, 
And thus this little missive strangely ran : — 

" NOTE. 

"Dear Sir: 

"The note you gave me was a great surprise ; 
I read, and scarcely could believe my eyes. 
That love so deep you say by you possessVl 
Could be a real thing and uncoufess'd. 

"You truly say we leave these scenes well known, 
Where we together often have been thrown, 
As we in classes met. Those times have flown ; 
I go far hence, and the sad partings mourn. 
And no voice tells me I shall e'er return. 
You, too, will go unto your much-lov'd home. 
With cheerful heart I trust to friends well known ; 
That God may favor you with choicest bliss 
He gives the good, is my most earnest wish. 
Whatever may our future walk attend. 
Chief of my joys will be to call you friend. 

"S. E. S. 

" 'And was that all? ' I said, pale with dismay. 
As hurriedly I cast that sheet away. 



126 LA POLD AND EUKIDICE. 

Then thought, ' How smoothly reads each pencird line, 
How beautifal indeed, and yet how blind.' 

'' I wrote again, and said, ' O tell me why 
We must in life forever say, Good-by 'i ' 
But jpartmg came, and never a reply. 

"• Old time roll'd on, and yet I lived. But then. 
That life would have been death to many men ; 
That loved one had to distant regions gone. 
And I, though crowd-surrounded, was alone. 
Anxieties arose like hungry beasts. 
And unappeased fed on my wasting flesh. 
To send these to their lairs and quieted, 
I wrote again, and thus this letter read : — 

' ' LETTER. 

"Dear one, forgive if I again should speak ; 
I would not be presumptuous, but would seek 
To cast this pond'rous burden from my breast. 
Now crushing peace, and murdering all my rest, 
I mean that burden huge of anxious care, 
Roird to and fro twixt hope and fell despair ; 
For who can live when such emotions war. 
Driving from side to side the weighty car 
Of deep anxiety, which, as it rolls, 
Grinds 'neath its tread the heartstrings of the soul ? 

"Sarah, I 've look'd into your beauteous eyes, 
Seen welling up within, rich thoughts arise 



CANTO X. 127 

And noble feeling, treasures of the mind 

And heart ; and felt in one so wise and kind 

I faithfully could trust. For tJds I knew. 

My love for you was^'wre and deep and true^ 

That you I thought the same, I need not say ; 

It is enough that you have borne away 

The center of my life. And me once free 

By your sweet, virtuous charms bade bow to thee. 

" The secret spell which works from heart to heart, 
I thought would twine our own ; and joys impart 
To each. But now what rests ? Must it be mine 
To love alone and worship at your shrine, 
While you cannot a warmer title breathe 
Than friend ? Can you a heart so full thus leave 
To sigh unheard amid a world of care. 
And unreturn'd save by the empty air ? 

" Surely that noble soul within your breast 
Would not permit. Then say I may be bless'd 
With your full heart. In me your trust confide 
As I have mine in you, and let the tide 
Of deep affection flow from soul to soul. 
Wakening, in each pure joys beyond control. 

" I 've looked into the happy school-boy's face, 
And he has smiled. Have clasp'd in my embrace 
The tiny child ; that, too, though small and meek. 
Has press'd its infant lips upon my cheek, 
And with a joy which blesses humankind. 



128 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Poured out an overflowing heart in mine ; 
I've joj'd to tind such pleasure and such mirth, 
And mix with youthful innocence on earth. 

"But what from her I Ve held mof<t dear? 

I 've not exchanged a sigh or mix'd a tear, 

One look, of meaning full, we "ve scarce exchanged. 

And why ? Affairs at school were so arranged 

That tlioj would not permit. Yet still within, 

I felt there was a power at work to win 

P^or you the noblest feelings of my heart. 

Of this you may have been aware. For art 

Cannot conceal stick feelings when they rise ; 

They flush the cheeks and look out from the eyes. 

"In vain I whispered, ' Cease, be still.' In vain 
I strove to check the rising sigh. The flame 
At each attempt grew brighter, brighter, till 
It scorched its bonds ; I yielding to its will. 

"I wrote. Your answer came. I said 't was kind. 

But O how cold, how distant, and how blind, 

And yet how beautiful. How oft I 've read, 

And it as oft a novel thought has bred 

Of what you mean. Am I a scamp to fear ? 

I thought you knew myself far i)etter, dear ; 

Do you spurn my heart ? and must I plead in vain ? 

Friendship would add but fuel to the flame 

Of anguish which would rise to scorch each vein, 

Boil my life's blood, and steep my fever'd brain. 



CANTO X. 129 

"Friendship from such a noble source, if pure, 

Would be a worthy boon to cherish, sure, 

Were there no deeper feelings in the heart. 

But when there are, 't would add a venom'd smart 

To disappointed hope ; for the lost prize 

In sight, can naught but wound the loser's eyes. 

"But, Sarah, come, be as a sister free, 
Unfold the secrets of your heart to me, 
I '11 strive to worthy prove of such a ti'ust ; 
If I do not, my judge be God, the Just. 

' ' Say I can hope for a return from thee. 

Of all I feel, and you have pour'd on me. 

That blessing which you wished that I might share. 

And Heaven repay, will be my humble prayer. 

"And now an answer let me meekly crave. 
Such as shall bless, and on this heart engrave 
A joy, — a heart, though widely spaced from thine. 
And yet a thousand cords with it entwine. 

"May peace and bliss your walks through life attend, 
Angels direct you, and may God defend. 

"O. K" 



CANTO XL 



Neveryield continues to tell his story, producing the copies 
and letters of his correspondence as he proceeds. Describes his 
state of feelings on being- jilted, which has been the meaus of 
getting him to this place, he seeking a life on the ocean to get 
rid of these haunts, and thereby had been captured and brought 
to this island of piracy. 

" This little missive wound its eastern way 
Through varied scenes of night and busy day 
Unto the shore of the blue ocean ; there 
It found the eyes it sought ; to them with care 
Kevealed its contents. Back from that loved hand 
Another missive flew across the land, 
Which to my sight unveiPd her secret mind, 
And none could call that letter dark or blind. 
I tore its seal, and this short letter read, 
While my poor heart, afflicted, sorely bled. 

* 

' ' LETTER. 

"Dear sir : I knew not that my former note was blind, 
Nor did I wish to speak a word unkind. 

"The warmest title I can breathe is friend, 
That being said, in that the whole must end ; 

[130] 



CANTO XI. 131 

Nor did I know when we in classes met 
That you desired a warmer epithet. 

"You know there is a barrier great and high 
Now standing interposed twixt you and I, 
Forbidding loudly that we should be one, 
And to remove this never can be done, 

"But none the less I have regards for you, 
As being nobly good and deeply true, 
And may it be your lot in future life. 
To call a worthier one than me, your wife. 

" Of the events of life there 's none can tell ; 
Likely we ne'er shall meet again. Farewell. 

"S. E. S. 

" Down sank the brightest hopes within my soul, 
And o'er them mighty billows seemM to roll ; 
These hopes now buried in the depths below. 
What could I feel but pangs of deepest woe ? 

" Long years rollVl by. At length we met again 
In that same hall where we had often been, 
Where she from me my changeless love had won, 
Then by my looks she knew what she had done. 

"Her hand into my own. I gently took, 
And wild emotions my whole being shook ; 
Yet both seemed calm, none present could deny, 
But speaking volumes went from eye to eye. 



132 LA FOLD AND EUEIDICE. 

"And then we parted, soon to meet again, 
And feel within, love's most mysterious flame, 
Together rode and talk'd of days gone by. 
And then I askM with a full, speaking eye, 
' Can you not love me, dearest, if you '11 try ? ' 
' O yes,' she said, and fanM me with a sigh, 
' I love you, dear ; but what doth tliat avail ? 
Love blind to reason sure must ever fail ; 
That mighty barrier still between us stands, ' 
And frowns upon the union of our hands ; 
And I 've resolved that none shall call me bride. 
Who is from me upon the other side. 

" ' It stands to reason then, say, does it not? 
That all our mutual love must be forgot ? ' 

" ' How can that be ? ' said I, ' O Heaven, tell ! 
I 've fought the fight, opposed love's every swell 
Brought all my forces up, and fighting, fell. 
At every point contested, forced to yield. 
And all my efforts slain upon the field. 
What shall I do ? Could you in me confide, 
Should I come fairly over on your side ? ' 
' O yes,' she said, and sighs her bosom hove, 
' Long time my love has with my reason strove. 
This for religion's sake, and that for yours. 
And now that both can have their way, it cures, 
And heals within me what has been a smart. 
In this light then consider well your part.' 



CANTO XI. 133 

I said, ' This I have done for years now fled, 
And naught would satisfy but that we wed.' 

" And then we pledg'd our hearts in mutual love, 
And those vows registered in heaven above ; 
Then lips in confidence to lips were press'd. 
And Heaven invoked to make our union bless'd. 

"And then with sacredness of feeling we. 
Each one resolved the other's life to be ; 
And as regrettingly we then did part, 
Each one's best treasure was the other's heart. 
I gave up all my forces in reserve. 
For her to hold in trust and her to serve. 
Not even dreaming in the least, for once, 
That one so good could fail to make response. 

"In me the spring of life well'd up anew, 
And brighter scenes rose sparkling on the view, 
And brighter shone than they had ever done 
Before requited love to me was shown. 
Thus newly bless'd I left my native home, 
And wander'd westward to that well-known State 
Which is eneompass'd by three mighty lakes ; 
To crown a studious course in life long plann'd 
To be completed in this favor'd land. 

" From thence to her a little missive came, 
By me indited in love's mystic flame, 



134 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

The fore part written in expressive prose, 
The latter that of verse, and thus it clos'd : — 

' ' CLOSE OF LETTER. 

"As when the rosy hand of morning light 
Folds up the curtain of a summer's night, 
When golden clouds float in the upper blue 
As guardian spirits lingering on the view. 
And oceans, lakes, and lands, and flowery isles 
Lay half reveaPd, half hidden in the smiles 
Which everywhere do every scene adorn, 
The face reflecting of the queen of morn, 
So you with no less rosy hand, sweet girl, 
Drew back the curtain from my future world ; 
Bade golden clouds of promise, hope, and love 
As guardian spirits hover from above. 
With seas of pleasure deckM with blooming isles, 
You gracVl my future, basking in your smiles. 
With flowers of hope you did my walks adorn, 
And breathing beauties brightened by your form, 
Kindled anew the light of life in me ; 
My bosom bird bade sing a song of glee, 
To find his mate he thought forever flown. 
Again return'd to call herself his own ; 
Made me rejoice, not for the morning skies, 
But looks of love fresh springing from your eyes. 

"O. N. 

"Just how this was received I never knew. 
Save by a letter coming to my view. 



CANTO XI. 135 

Bearing expressions of a love most true, 

In her own hand. Through me strange feelings chas'd 

Each other round, requited lov^e to taste, 

Which felt a joj that did throughout me steal ; 

I felt within all she assumed to feel. 

And life on tiptoe from within look'd out ; 

In loveliness all things seem^l rob'd about. 

"My mind had never seem'd so clear before. 
To taste and swallow down that sought-for lore ; 
Whatever I read or heard I understood, 
And what I had, came back whene'er it should. 
I crack'd the merry joke with new-made friends, 
On every corner fortune said, Amen ! 
But what appeared to be the dawning light 
Was soon to close in deep and dreary night. 

"To keep alive this pleasure-giving flame. 
From her but three love-giving letters came, 
And then another of a different hue. 
Which on this flame sulphuric acid threw ; 
It came to me in unexpected hour. 
And clipp'd the head from every smiling flower ; 
Did every hopeful power within unman ; 
Trembling I tore, and thus this letter ran : — 

' ' LETTER. 

" Dear friend : My mind is in a dreadful state, 
I fear I have deceived myself of late, 



13f) LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

By thinking my esteem for you was love, 
Until a dream, descending from above, 
Keveal'd the dark conditions of ray mind, 
And that we never, never were designed 
For one another in this bnsy life. 
And that I must not ever be your wife. 

' ' You are too worthy for a girl like me, 
Who has a mind of such duplicity ; 
Then on such fruitless love no longer dwell, 
But to each other let us say, ' Fareioell. ' 

"S. E. S. 

" As bows the rose before a storm of hail, 

Driven by winds raised to a perfect gale. 

It yields its fair-hue'd petals to the wind. 

And leaves a naked, storm-beat stem behind, 

So bowM my head before this sweeping wrong. 

And yielded up its joys. JNiglit dark and long 

Stretch'd all about its shadows of despair. 

And groans from falling hopes mock'd every prayer. 

" ' What now has there broke loose ? ' I said, ' O tell ! 

And stagger'd toward a bed on which I fell, 

And groan Vl aloud, face covered for a spell ; 

Then rose again with a wild sense of pain. 

Sat down and wrote with burning heart and brain. 

This note [holding one up before our eyes] 

The length of which I hope you '11 not chastise. 



CANTO XI. 137 

» "letter. 

"Dear One : I'm in a fearful plight, 
I cannot think or read or write ; 
My heart is full and blind my sight 
For sighs which laden every breath, 
And tears which burn my soul to death. 
I cannot tell you liow I feel ; 

where is hope, or peace, or weal ? 

The wounds which bleed beneath your steel. 
Such wounds as these, how can they heal ? 

"Dear Sarah, on a gloomy morn. 
Was handed me your note of scorn ; 

1 then was happy ere it came. 

Was laboring with my might and main, 
I thought for thee and me the same. 
But all of that, alas, was vain. 

"And while I read its words which stung, 
'My chum is happy ^'' said the one 
Who handed me that note of woe, 
Now doubtless saw my color go. 
O that sach happ>iness as this 
Should ever enter human bliss ! 
It doth unman all of my powers ; 
It glooms and darkens all my hours ; 
It storms of grief around me showers, 
And blights and withers all my flowers. 



138 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

" O Cruel, what is life to me 
But one dark, dread, wreck-covered sea ? 
Where a few straggling beams of light 
Add but a gloom to dreary night. 

"Forgive me if I should upbraid, 
O fickle^ fickle^ fichle maid. 

"Why rather not with bloody knife 
Saunter forth and take my life. 
Than drop by drop to let it flow, 
Into this bitter cup of woe ? 

"I knew that most of womankind 
Were trifling, flattering, false, and blind ; 
Oft saying what they did not mean, 
And l)eln(j what they did not seem ; 
That they the absent soon forgot. 
If some one else their hand had sought. 
Neglecting the most sacred vows 
Once seal'd and kissel upon their brows 
By those who made those vows a power 
To brace their hearts in trying hour ; 
That cared she not for pangs or sighs 
Or tears which water sleepless eyes ; 
Yet thought, my Sarah was not so. 
But O, alas, this fatal blow, 
Now dealing torture, pain, and woe. 
Makes me question, ' Did I know ? ' 



CANTO XI. 139 



"You say you love me not, nor can^ 

what a dupe and fool I ara, 
That I should give my all to thee 
But to be made a mockery. 

"What can I trust ? What tongue believe ? 

1 never thought you could deceive. 
But my affections smother'd long, 

By your own vows were made more strong ; 
When I confided all to thee, 
And thought you did the same to me ; 
Not even dreaming you could change. 
And yet you did. Is this not strange ? 

' ' Sarah, on that eventful ride 

Did we not say we would confide ? 

That we would love still more and more ? 

Then lips pressed lips, and said it o'er ; 

Said you not you long had lov'd, 

And caird I not on God above. 

To witness what had said each tongue, 

And bless our willing hearts as one ? 

Said you not that cares of life 

Would closer bind us, man and wife ? 

Promised that you would constant be? 

And I, to prove the same to thee ? 

Then feelingly did we not part, 

Each heart confiding well in heart ? 



140 LA FOLD AND EDRIDICE. 

" Such VOWS as these dare you evade, 
Thinking there is no record made, 
Which binds us to the things we Ve said ? 
Believe not thus ; who ever dare, 
Of due reward will have her share. 

" Then to this distant place I came, 
Love fiird my heart and swell'd each vein. 
On every corner fortune smiled, 
I thought I was a favor'd child. 

"Then came your note filFd full of love — 
What could a greater pleasure prove. 
Than read such words of love to me 
By one, dear girl, belov'd like thee ? 

" Do you remember what you said 

About my first note which you read ? 

How it awoke within, this thought, 

' You love him if you would."' Then what ? 

That resolution came to mind. 

Which you upon that fide defined. 

And then you said, ' I never knew 

That I could love so deeply true, 

As my affections are for you.' 

" That it had been your study long 
How to conceal all feelings strong ; 
And when approaching, ice-berg cold, 
Oft inward agitations rolPd ; 



CANTO XI. 141 



How, when at Amsden we first met, 
That night you never could forget ; 
How all those stars which had as yet, 
Oft smil'd with you, and also wept, 
That night but moclvd to see you moan, 
That you felt friendless and alone, 
For wounding one who loved too well, 
(Ah, Sarah, that was vain to tell) 
Not because the heart was cold, 
But that the reason said, ' Withhold.' 

"And then how prettily you ask'd, 
' But why speak of the gone-by past, 
When all the future is as fair, 
As the first tints of morning are ? ' 

"Then soon your second letter came. 
Though breathing a less ardent fiame, 
Yet in so beautiful a strain , 
I did not dream your love was vain. 

"To my proposal you replied, 

The same as though you'd be my bride. 

If such I wish'd, the next July 

(I fixed on this in my reply). 

"And then your other letter came, 
A love epistle but in name. 
All there I saw of love was this, 
' And now farewell, but first a kiss.' 



142 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

I thought, ' Is Sarah growing cold ? ' 
That thought went down into my soul, 
Arousing pangs along its way, 
Which all my powers could not allay, 
These with murder threatened rest ; 
The thought I shut out from my breast 
As dangerous to peace and me, 
And whispered, 'No, it cannot be 
That one so nobly good as she 
Can think of loving else tlian me, 
Who lives on vows which she has given, 
And makes those vows his little heaven ; 
Against which, now should she rebel 
Would turn that heaven into a hell.' 

" And here 1 rested, thinking you 
Never to me would prove untrue. 

"But, faithless one, is it not strange 
That hour can work in you such change, 
And in me too ? — How can it be ? 
I was most happy, gay, and free 
Before I read such word from thee. 
But, me! Ah, itne ! where am I now? 
See this cold damp upon my brow. 
My restless limbs and blood-shot eye, 
Which have seen sleepless nights go by ; 
My bosom striving to maintain 
An overwhelming weight of pain ; 
Around me grief and torturing care, 



CANTO XI. 143 



And deep within — O ! what is there ? 
My tongue refuses to dechire ; 
Some demon mocks my every prayer, 
And my words die in empty air ; 
And what is worse — I cannot hide 
Of grief this overwhelming tide. 

" This change my classmates plainly see, 

And gathering 'round, they question me, 

• What ails you Neveryield ? O say ! ' 

I try to smile the thing away. 

But then my feelings break anew, 

I hurry off and think of you, 

While scalding tears my cheeks bedew. 

" 'Tis wrong ; to me it is disgrace. 
To kill me in this public place, 
I cannot read, or fix my mind 
On anything of science kind ; 
And while I here remain at school, 
Must I act the dumpish fool ? 
Must rivals glory in my fall, 
And sneering to each other, call, — 
' Is he much pumpkins after all ? '- 

" O, if such daggers must be hurl'd. 
Could you not wait, O cruel girl. 
Till I could hide me from the world ? 

"You found your fears upon a dream ; 
Say, are they ei^er what they seem ? 



144 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

Or of such prophecy possess'd, 

That we on them should build, distressed ? 

"I dream'd one night I lost mj head, 

While from the trunk two currents red 

Of vital blood and life gush'd out ; 

Yet still I lived and walkVi about, 

Could think, could talk, could see, and hear 

Without a brain, tongue, eye, or ear ; 

And yet it all so real seeni'd, 

'Twas more like life than like a dream ; 

And should I think 'twould come to pass 

Would that make it so at last ? 

"Though your heart is hard, I own 
You gave me in its stead, a stone ; 
Or else you 've taken it away, 
And why — for what — I cannot say. 
What have I said or done amiss 
That I deserve such wrong as this ? 

" Be honest, Sarah, tell me all ; 

Has not some other caus'd my fall ? 

By creeping down into your soul, 

To whom you 've given its control ? 

What else so soon could change your mind, 

Though you are one of womenkind ? 

O truly say — Is this not so ? 

And if it is, O say not, Ho ! 

But let all truth to me be shown, 



CANTO xr. 1-15 

Who once could call you all my own ; 
For you and I do both believe, 
When close to virtue's side we cleave, 
That marriage and a promise given, 
Are the same in sight of Heaven. 

" And if this once contested field, 
Now fairly won, you bid me yield ; 
Let me know into whose hands 
I nmst surrender up my lands ; 
He cannot love you more than I, 
Why should I yield ? O tell me why, 

"But if 'tis want of love alone. 

And all the truth is what you own, 

And that there is no other known. 

Who shares your love more free than I, 

My hopes would lead me yet to try 

To make that love all it should be ; 

And if your will were lent to me, 

I would succeed, and, Sarah, you 

By heaven would swear that love was true. 

" But I believe — at least Ifear 
That there is something hidden here. 
Which all at once has changed your views. 
And this the way you tell the news. 

"Though said your conscience^ ' Tell him all,' 
I fear that conscience was so small 

10 



l^^i LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Its dictates have not been obej'd, — 
That but a part has been disphij'd, 
While carefully conceaPd within 
Lies the main and hidden spring. 

"•You said you 'd lov'd me long and well, 

But the confession vjill withheld. 

Now that will changing in its view, 

All that love had flaniM anew. 

And can I think that in a dai/, 

Such love as that could die away ? 

O tell it not, it cannot be ; 

It warms another if not 7/ie. 

And, Sarah, is this constancy ? 

"Betrothed, my fond, my love, my bride 

(Pray pardon what I cannot hide, 

My heart 's so full of love and thee 

To use such terms seems fitting me, 

And words which from your lips have flown, 

Confessed you mine, my ow7i, dear own), 

Say, is there nauglit which you can bring, 

To which one twining hope might cling 'i 

Or must I live amid despair. 

And bury every promise there ? 

' ' O say your heart will cherish love for me. 
Till I again return to thee. 
To plead my cause before your face. 
You, clasp'd within my warm embrace. 
And freshly spoken words shall plead 



CANTO XI. 147 

Of you, dear girl, iiiy sorest need. 
Then, if you say my heart iivufit bleed. 
That not a vow of yours you '11 heed, 
Then let my lips unite with thine. 
To lay upon their living shrine 
My cherished hopes ; to me remind 
How changeable are womenkind. 
And when a sparkling eye I see, 
Which seems to be all constancy, 
Then by association's laws. 
May I think what Sarah was. 

." Your injured O. N. 

"A letter thus so full and long would seem 

Exhaustive quite of almost any theme, 

But seemed to me in that ill-fated hour. 

As but a drop of rain before a shower ; 

And all the written thoughts for to be read 

By her who had torn loose each vow-made tliread, 

As few among the many to be said ; 

Like pebbles seen^ to those of ocean's bed. 

Thoughts upon rising thoughts were multiplied, 

Till they became like to the ocean's tide. 

Forever restless, heaving deep and wide, 

With waters from each soul-fed stream supplied. 

" This letter with an equal length of prose, 
Reconning pleasures past, and future woes, 
Silent across the busy tide of life 
Came now before this plighted,- faithless wife. 



148 ^ LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

"Just how it was received I never knew, 
Save that she wrote, from sorrow's well it drew 
Great draughts of tears and pourM them out as well. 
Which from her eyes in rushing torrents fell. 

" And then she wrote, ' It is for jou to say 

If .listless, I shall on your altar lay 

With pulseless heart and feelings cold as ice, — 

Become to you a willing sacrifice. 

Would you that I myself should tear apart 

And give to you my hand without my heart ? 

The one last nam'd was never yet controFd ; 

Whoe'er it may, within its arms it folds. 

And from all others it its love withholds." 

" I know not how for vows to make amends 

Except my fickle will to yours should bend ; 

And if you choose, my hand to you I '11 yield, 

But hnoii} my heart is a forbidden field. 

The two dissevered are most wretched things. 

Pained with repentance, tortured with its stings ; 

Dissevering of the two is a great sin. 

To which you would not have me enter in. 

Then to your better self I make appeal, 

Believing in your kindness, Neveryield. 

" ' Believing in my kindness ? ' — thus I wrote — 
" Kindness in you I thought was a dead note. 
Whose mellow tones had long since died away. 
While cruelty usurp'd the sceptered sway ; 



CANTO XI. 149 

When by inconstancy you run me through, 
And with its dirk prob'd up the wound anew, 
And on me heapM up anguish mountain high, 
Beneath whose weight I pleadingly did cry, 
And though you heard, you brought me no relief, 
But without feeling seal'd my fate in grief. 

"But notwithstanding this, I love you still. 
And be it far from me to do you ill ; 
Your hand without your heart I would not ask, 
'T would be to you an unenduring task. 
But O, ' t is hard ! and can I ever yield 
Into another's hand this dear-bought field 
Of your affections, which you said I won ? 
Oh tell me, dearest, how can it be done ? 

" ' TZ^wj,' she replied, ' is not for me to say, 
It inust be done, and you must find the way.' 

" Against my will I was push'd on a road 
Beset with naked thorns and cruel goads ; 
And here I learn'd a fact, they said, not new. 
That my conjectures, in the worst, were true ; 
And that she 'd given both her lieart and hand 
Without reserve unto another man. 

"And she who had been once the center made 
Of all my plans, and in the balance laid. 
Had on a sudden from that balance sprung, 
When my side dropp'd and on the platform rung ; 



150 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

And all my hopes a mass of ruins lay, 
And broken vows lay strewn along the way. 

"Dear brothers, did you ever view the path 
Wliere just had been display'd tlie cyclone's wrath ? 
Where forests ruin'd lay in heaps around, 
In wild confusion, scattered o'er the ground ? 
If such you have, then possibly you can 
Have some conception of my prostrate plans. 
Which to their certain ruin had been brought. 
When all her promises had proven naught. 
Since such had f ail'd — O what was I to trust ? 
' O Death,' I cried, ' let dust return to dust ! ' 

"But death came not at will, nor end to woe, 
'T was mine their pangs to feel, its grief to know ; 
Affliction's armies marched within me now, 
And their encampments held upon my brow, 
To hide the which all efforts were in vain ; 
They fortified and walPd that brow with pain ; 
And by that wall as in some dreadful dream. 
Ran the black waters of life's troubled stream. 

"Above this adverse stream I held my head. 
And waded in, not knowing where I tread ; 
Soon I was 'mid the floating debris thrown. 
And torn by whirlpools, groan suceeding groan. 

"This was to me reality, and not a dream. 

And by this debris caught was carried down the stream. 



CANTO XI. 151 

"To changeless love there doth a will belong 

To pardon the beloved for every wrong, 

And though our lives through cruel wounds out-flow, 

We can but kiss the hand that dealt the blow ; 

So with my own, though to another wed. 

Though broken vows she both had wrote and said, 

I could not wish an ill upon her head ; 

But unto him to whom she 'd falsely fell 

What then I wished I hardly now dare tell, 

And what each shared was never mine to know, 

But think their joys were soured into woe. 

And all their look'd-ior flowery beds of ease 

Strown with wild nettles and with thistle leaves. 

"Now sick of native land and misery, 
I sought to wander on the faithless sea. 
One ship was ours, who in her stately pride 
By breath of steam was lifted o'er the tide. 
Boarded and burnt she now forsaken lies 
Beneath unfathom'd waves no more to rise. 
" Now sick of native land and misery, 
With broken heart I crossM the restless sea, 
In a strange land to wander for awhile, 
Endeavoring to forget the lov'd one's smile ; 
To plunge in Lethe's stream my bleeding past. 
As here I wished my all forever cast. 
But learning of his death who'd ruin'd me 
And roused the rage of all my jealousy, 
A wish to know the cause ran through my brain ; 
I tlierefore sought my native land again." 



CANTO XII. 



Hepnora replies to Neveryield with feelings of sympathy and 
compares his case with his own. Tells what a strait they 're in, 
that they must make these outlaws feel that they are a part of 
their own strength. While they are counseling what is best for 
them to do, they hear an awful yell, crying, "Arm, captives ! arm !" 
Hepnora orders all to form into rank and to march forth in mili- 
tary style, which they do nobly as though having been previously 
trained. They meet a man bearing a loTid of arms, who on meet- 
ing them, throws them down, and tells of a fight in progress ; how 
if the enemy succeeds, they will all die, but if we, they shall all 
live. Each one selects his arms and hurries off to battle. On an 
inclining plain they soon behold the fight and rush in at the weak- 
est 2)oint, and by their means, victory soon crowns their efforts, 
and the enemj^ are all slain. They then take an invoice of their 
goods. After all had eaten, they appoint Hejinora their leader, 
which office he accepts, and tells them that the memories of this 
fight would ever bind them together. They then review the field 
of battle where the arms of the enemy are heaped up in a pile. 
Hepnora lays his plans for the future, where this canto ends. 

To whom I thus : "Thanks, Neveryield, thougli long-, 
To us your tale seems short. We feel your wrong ; 
And our hearts bleed because your own Jtas bled, 
We placing our own selves within your stead. 

" Great is the sympathy in trial's hour. 
Between the victims of affliction's power, 

[153 J 



CANTO XII. 153 

And strangers^ we are lead bj a strange hand, 

To strangely meet in this still stranger land, 

And each to each the scroll of life unfurl, 

In this strange place, shut out from this strange world. 

"Good fortune heretofore has on me smil'd. 
So that I thought I was her favor'd child ; 
But writhing now beneath this awful blow, 
Leads me to truly think I did not know. 

" Early to me in life came love's fond dream. 
And pour'd into my soul lier magic stream 
To ocean depth. I felt, and trembling stood, 
Lest adverse winds should stir the mighty flood. 
And lift its waves so high they 'd peace destroy, 
Sweep o'er their banks, and level every joy. 

" But winds of kindness breath'd upon that sea. 
Ruled it in love and deep tranquillity, 
While in the breather's soul I held the scale 
Of love well poised, whatever might assail ; 
The waters of our feelings mingled droll, 
Heart beat to heart, and soul enveloped soul ; 
And these sustained by secret powers above. 
Each to the other was requited love, 
Which flow'd in union through the straits of life. 
And blessing gave to us as man and wife. 

"The fruit of this bless'd union was a boy. 
His mother's sunshine and his father's joy ; 



154 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

From whom this separation is most sad, 
Torn from the living blessings which I had. 
And so to this in common we are brought, 
Being within one common sea net caught. 

" Yet fortune holds to our resistless lips 
A different draught for each of us to sip ; 
You drank while yet at liome jour hitter cup, 
And now perhaps a different one turns up. 

"In your despair you sought seclusion then. 

From the society of quizzing men ; 

The thing you sought for now you 've surely found 

In this lone isle — this sin-curs'd spot of ground. 

And here we are ; what further us await 

Is only written in the book of fate. 

Perhaps the future, big with blessings spread, 

Is soon to burst its contents on your head ; 

And that great iceberg long within you felt, 

In genial sunshine is about to melt. 

And joy to germinate and bud and bloom 

Within your breast, which you had thought their tomb. 

" What life has in its store, there 's none can say. 
The darkest hour is just before the day. 

" And here in confidence now let me state, 

'T is ours to spin the very threads of fate. 

Our disobedience in the least is death. 

The sword will quick descend and stop our breath. 



CANTO XII. 155 

And we unto that unknown bourne be borne, 
From which no traveler ever doth return. 

" We all have friends which now again to meet, 
Would be a pleasure ne'er before so sweet. 

" Let's here in confidence concoct a plan, 
To be obedient to this outlawed clan. 
And pray to God that he prepare a means, 
Whereby we '11 realize our fondest dreams. 

"Let's gain these outlaw's confidence in short. 

And make them feel we are the needed part 

Of their own strength ; which, when contention reigns, 

Would strike the needed blow for mutual gains. 

When to their confidence once entered in. 

They'll heed our says, thinking by them to win." 

I said, and sat, revolving still in mind 
What best would serve the end by us design'd ; 
In confidence we talk'd and here we sat, 
Some one suggesting this, and some one that ; 

When to our ears there broke an awful yell, 

As though escaped afresh from lowest hell ; 

"^/'m, cajytlves ! arm! " it loud and louder cried. 

And from a hundred rocks echo replied. 

The very nature of that earnest cry, 

Told us that death and danger both were nigh. 



156 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

I, to the requirement rose and gave command 

(So used was I to this in our own land), 

" For God's sake quickly rise," I rising said. 

All bow'd assent, and quickly each obeyM. 

"Form straight in line" — 'twas done with sped and 

slick, 
'• Delay not ; forward ! March at double quick ! " 
And at the word they march'd ; we fairly run. 
But lo ! a man is coming — now has come. 
In living arms he bears the arms of death, 
At sight of which we all suspend our breath. 
On meeting us he throws those irons down. 
They ring and clatter with a fearful sound. 
And in confusion cross'd lay on the ground. 

" Here halt," I cried, " let me mature our plan 
And be instructed by this armory man. 
"What now is up? and what excitement, say? 
O tell us all, and we will ever pray. ' 

"This day in conflict was our leader slain," 
Replied in haste this much excited man, 
" His body lies low in the gulfy main. 
Two rivals seek his empty place to gain ; 
Each one has friends all ripened for the strife, — 
Contention lifts her head and threatens life. 
And yet there is another cause to try ; 
If we succeed, you live ; if they, you die. 
Hence I have stolen arms and for you ran, 
That for each other we might mutual stand. 



CANTO XI r. 157' 

While you, well ann'd with all your strength and 

powers, 
Will find your interest served by serving ours. 
Take arms which suit you best to fence or wield 
Where rests all hope, upon the battle-field. 

" This is my own, my tried, my wedded blade," 
Stretching one forth, our armor-bearer said, 
"It long has served me well on fields of strifes, 
I know its temper well as you your wife's. 
Woe to that man who in close contest closed 
To this tried weapon ever stands opposed." 

Now we select our blades ; which each one tries 
With strokes unerring, nothing can disguise ; 
Though strangers, each to each appeared a host, 
On whom to largely reckon or to boast. 

This skill each had acquired in other days 

By practice hard which sweetened was witli praise. 

Each part in exercise each truly knew. 

And when opposed by sword just what to do ; 

Whether but singly or in battle-field, 

Each knew just how his naked blade to wield. 

So quick in time, hardly to be believed. 

Each one stood forth in shining armor sheathed. 

"Form into rank !" I cried, and the whole five 
Stood as one man to will, and fight, and strive. 



158 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"I fight alone," our late informer said, 

' ' And to defy a host I do not dread ; 

Yet all my powers to yours I '11 faithful bend, 

For you are mine, and I 'm your fighting friend." 

"Keep pace and march at double quick," I cried. 
To that point shore-ward pointed by the guide.'''' 
And forth we marched upon the very run. 
Five swiftly moved as though they were but one ; 
And keeping pace close at their side, we two — 
I and the armor-bearer — almost flew. 

We reach'd the place describ'd, and just below 

On an inclining plain, were friend and foe, 

In fiercest conflict fighting for dear life. 

And motley arm'd with sword, and spear, and knife. 

I held a spear, for this was once my pride. 

And a short sword hung dangling at my side. 

" Behold the fight," our late informer said, 

" Our color's blue, and tlieirs is fiery red. 

Behold the blue upon our arms display'd. 

Strike for the right, and ask no further aid." 

All saw and felt. 

" One moment, halt," I cried, 
"Just where to strike allow me to decide." 

There was a place where but a worn-out few 
Had long held out, but longer could not do ; 
That place I show'd by pointing with my spear ; 
All saw at once, it was so very near. 



CANTO XII, 159 

"Enter right there,"" I said. With shout thej sprang. 
Voices with din of arms most strangely rang. 

The foe who thought that victory was in sight 
LookM up and round about in wild affright ; 
The sight suspended breath. Out leap'd our swords, 
And life from nearly all their bosoms pour'd. 
Down, down these sank, while others turn'd to fly, 
But in the effort turnxl away to die. 

There was no quartei' ask'd and none was given. 
But every soul was from its body driven. 
Death was the fate of all who stood opposed, 
Thus ended fight, and thus our victory closed. 

I wish you could have seen those men as they 
March'd out from victory perfect on that day ; 
The looks which leap'd from out their inmost souls 
Were those which fortune humbles not nor holds — 
Show'd each a hero noble, strong, and bold, 
Who would have honor'd any arm of power, 
Which nations wield in triumph''s proudest hour ; 
Each comrade saw our strength, and said, 
" You brought salvation timely to our aid." 

Our foes now dead, a trench we scooped outright, 
And here their bodies buried out of sight. 

This may seem hard, but know these very men 
Long had been doing what we did to them, 



160 LA rOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

And thus the Scriptures were again fulfilFd, 
That he who kills, in like way shall be kilPd. 

These haters of mankind now being dead, 

Whose looks even these robbers learn'd to dread, 

Who loved to kill and gloried in dismay, 

And from whom others turn'd in fear away, — 

I say, these being dead and hid from sight 

Bj means which we had added to the fight, 

We, being victors of the field, begin 

To take this now new situation in. 

Victors we are, and what do we possess ? — 

Firstly, this island here, this pirate's nest ; 

Goods here in store of almost every kind. 

Though foully got in almost every clime. 

Which placed upon the markets of the earth 

Would be of value great and untold worth ; 

But kept conceal'd as they needs ever be, 

Only prospective value reckon we ; 

As possibly they might by hook or crook. 

For half their worth be sold in some dark nook ; 

And the fleet ship which for the pirate crew 

On eagle wings had o'er the ocean flew, 

Now fiU'd with new supplies of wealth which they 

Had wrench'd from others, now stood in the bay. 

Now we on wharf this vessel did unload, 
Which being lightened, high and higher rode, 
As light as cork to every touch it seem'd, 
Instinct with life or as some airy dream. 



CANTO XII. 161 

Yet covered up within, there wa« that hold 
In which we were confiii'd, as I liave told, 
Where there was filth and everything obscene 
To make the thing obnoxious and unclean, — 
Were left to be a curse to all of those 
Who by bad fortune here might be enclosed. 

So oft with man, noble in form and niein, 
He may seem pure in every thought and dream, 
May move about in perfect ease and grace, 
While noble looks are shining from his face ; 
And you would swear of one thing you were sure, 
That in his very nature he was pure. 

But to that secret nature enter in, 

And you will find both wretchedness and sin ; 

And in the secret chambers of his soul 

You '11 find some kin to that fair vessel's hold. 

At ebb of tide these goods were taken in. 
In the same way the other load had been ; 
This was j)erform''d with dispatch and good will, 
And at the table all had ate their fill, 
When one arose, now oldest of the clan, 
And moved that I be given the chief command. 
"Besides," said he, "our lives and selves we owe 
To him and his who terrified the foe 
By skill of arms ; against whom well displayed 
Right well he knew, put all his own to shade. 
11 



i62 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

"At sight, oue niomeiit statue-like he stood, 
When we the advantage took as well we could, 
And slew the man who was to each opposed, 
When most sank down, their eyes forever closed. 
The others tried to flee, when all too late ; 
Wounded they fell and met the self-same fate. 

" Hence unto these we can most plainly see 
We owe ourselves as well as victory ; 
Since trusting them such blessings we obtain, 
A higher trust shall we not give again ^ " 

He said, and sat. Then soon another rose 
Saying, '* I second what he doth propose, 
And as remarks I furthermore would say, 
He hath deserved this place this very day ; 
What further proof for fitness do we need 
Than look into his flashing eye and read ; 
A soul which can such noble looks outsend 
In trial's hour will not betray a friend. 
On him in confidence we will rely. 
Though fate should frown, and fiercest foes defy ; 
And let us show our hands without disguise. 
And whosoever favors let him rise." 

All rose at once with seeming right good will, 
Ana not a man but I was there sat still. 

"By this expression had with us," said he, 
Turning a confidential look on me, 



CANTO XII. 163 

''It is unanimous as you can see, 

And is the will of all, express'd and free, 

That you should take at once supreme command 

Of us and all we have by sea and land. 

" We tender this to you without disguise," 
He said, looking on me with searching eyes, 
"' Believing you will always be our friend 
Throughout your life and faithful to its end. 
And once for all now let me say. Beware, 
A sword is hanging o'er you by a hair, 
And one suspicion that you are untrue 
Is very sure to clip that hair in two, 
And unforewarn'd this ready death let fall 
Into your bosom warm, and through your all. 

"But I and all those present here believe 

That you in least will never us deceive ; 

And that you'll not, most solemnly you '11 swear." 

"I do," I said ; "your welfare be my care. 

And this one fact will us together bind, 

That we have slain the haters of mankind — 

Shoulder to shoulder stood in common cause, 

And justice dealt to breakers of all laws. 

I never could a faithful friend betray ; 

And this eventful conflict of to-day. 

Which we 've together fought, together shared. 

And to a common foe our bosoms bared. 

With friendship's endless chain our hearts will bind, 

Each one to each throughout a long lifetime. 



104 LA I'OLD AND EUKIDICE. 

''When men together share such conflicts dire, 
There 's kindled in euch soul a living fire 
AVhicli Lethe's stream of waters cannot quell, 
Nor all the warring storms of life expel ; 
But over all it lifts its flaming head 
And brighter grows in times of danger dread. 

"Then face looks up to face, and we can see 

In memory's mirror then most perfectly 

Each one's expression of anxiety. 

The heart beats faster then, and draws more near 

To those thus rendered to it doubly dear. 

Thus everything doth us together bind 

And falsity within you cannot find. 

" Brothers we are, by dangers sorely tried, 
Our lives were sought for, but the seekers died, 
My thanks to you that you in me confide. 

"This is to me indeed a great surprise, 
I had expected death without disguise ; 
But God it seems hath order'd otherwise. 

" It has been mine to rule in other days 
With broader sway and more intricate ways 
Which will the better fit me, and the more, 
To govern you upon this secret shore ; 
And while away upon the ruthless sea 
I mast by wiser counsel governed be, 
I looking unto them, and you to me. 



CANTO XII. 165 

"Then may unbroken confidence unite 

Our hands and hearts in friendship's sacred riglit. 

E'en now the voice of duty calls away, 

Whose subjects we all are, and must obey." 

This being said we all at once went out ^ 

Into a world of conflict and of doubt. 

And now again the battle-field reviewed. 

And in our minds the conflict was renew'd. 

Near by, the foemen's arms lay in a pile, 

Who in the recent conflict fierce and wild 

Had sought our lives, but in this they were foilVl. 

Those arms which in their gleam such terror had 

While in the hands of foemen fiercely mad, 

There in a heap now cold and listless lay, 

And would as soon some other wills obey ; 

And yet there was a terror in their clang 

On being stirr'd, which from that heap upsprang. 

And sent a shudder through the inner man. 

As though those points of steel were through it ran. 

From this standpoint in time we look'd away 
And ask'd ourselves, What of the future day ? 
A thousand courses press'd upon my mind. 
Each sliowing up the advantage of its line ; 
Their lights I view'd and argument I heard. 
Trying my best to truly weigh each word ; 
But which to choose was hard for me to say, 
Shrouded in mist was every J^utii re way. 



166 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

The instigators of this clan were dead, 

Just retribution visited each liead ; 

And tliose now left were of a better mind, 

More nobly born and to the good inclined, 

Who like myself were forced to join this clan, 

And like myself longed for their native land. 

And I believed that all would gladly find 

Some other calling of a higher kind 

If they but could, and have their lives preserved. 

And would declare it could they have the nerve. 

But each one fear'd to break the dreadful spell, 

And his most cherished thoughts he dar'd not tell. 

Divining of the which I well could guess ; 

I therefore sought relief for their distress. 

This secret plan I thought of more and more, 
To cruise about near some thick-settled shore. 
At early dawn to see at morning's prime. 
What might turn up to forward my design. 
And as drew on the busy, bustling day. 
To quietly retire from sight of bay. 



,^V^,vW//;^;, 




CANTO XIII. 



In accordance with Hepuoni's plan these pirates roam the ocean 
day after day, and behold many of nature's wonderful and fearful 
phases, and draw near even to the Maelstrom, which is described. 
They are almost drawn into its awful vortex, but make desjierate 
effort and soon ojet out of its power and return to their island 
home. A day and night spent here evince a o-rowiug spirit of dis- 
contentment and distrust of Hepnora's litness for the office of 
leadership. Hepnora sees this and makes a conciliatory speech. 
Two others reply, saying that they can see nothing for which they 
should distrust him, and propose to place implicit confidence in 
him, which is put to vote, and all acijuiesce. Hepnora then com- 
mands them to put to ship but leave all of the disabled ])ehind. 
They obey orders, and with the swell of music they enter the 
cave passage-way, which is now lit with burning lamps. An 
attempted description of this cave. They pass through and soon 
stand upon the wharf and view the little enclosed bay which 
appears most innocent. They then go aboard of their little vessel. 
Once out upon the ocean they steer for America, and on their way 
are visited by a storm which soon clears away, and in the morning, 
land appears. They sound and soon anchor. Hepnora views the 
same scenes he had in his younger days with his wife before mar- 
riage, and is lost in reverie from which he is aroused by another 
.sh.aking him, and asking what is the matter. He looks tlirough a 
glass, and a youth appears upon the distant shore and bathes in 
the sea. He])nora orders down the lightest boat and rapidly rows 
for him, whom he makes his jn-isoner, throws him into his skiff, 
then hurries off to his vessel which is waiting for him. He bids 
the crew to take them in, and hurry away before the sun rises, 
which is done, and canto ends. 

[107] 



168 LA FOLD AND EIJKIDICE. 

Now in accordance with nij secret plan. 

Concerning which I VI counserd not a man, 

Day after day we roam'd npon tlie sea, 

Avoiding what to ns might captures be ; 

And every vessel which did cross our path 

[ quietly let slip, before or aft, — 

Prizes of worth which might with ease been made, 

I let slip by, and not a word was said, 

But sought we dangers of a different kind 

Where angry waves war'd with the howling wind ; 

And courting these, we pass'd through many seas 

And hoisted sail to almost every breeze ; 

Even on Norway's rough and rugged shore 

We felt the Maelstrom draw, and heard its roar, 

And that of living creatures in its power. 

But pushing to one side aslant the way, 

Where rushing waters make such dread display. 

We to that awful vortex closer ran 

Than any one before had done, or can. 

That fearful whirlpool cannot be described, 

Where madden'd waters rush from every side 

Like howling demons. Where ? O who can tell ( 

Into its awful vortex down to hell 

To quench those fiery floods, or, if not there, 

Into some hopeless region of despair. 

Our ship, upon whose strength we had relied,. 
Could scarcely stem the onward rushing tide, 
Was almost swallowed up in the abyss, 



CANTO XIII. 



iri9 



Whose splash and clash and roar and groan and hiss 

Sent terrors whirling through each trembling soul 

As we its awful threatenings did behold. 

But all our power of steam being applied, 

We rode aslant across the rushing tide. 

Only by distant landmarks could we tell, 

We were not rushing to that howling hell. 

But to the rescue every power was brought, 
And soon we found the tranquil waters sought ; 
And pushing seaward found at length the land 
Which had been shelter for this pirate band ; 
Where we soon moor'd within its little bay 
To rest awhile, grown weary of the sea. 

A day and night upon this island spent, 

Show'd in some breasts a growing discontent ; 

From lip to lip mistrustful whispers ran. 

Each slyly asking of his neighbor man,— 

"What know you of our new-made leader's plan ? " 

And hidden winks were cast from eyes to eyes 

Mistrustful of their captain's qualities. 

I saw the sad condition of each mind 

Where deep distrust had with suspicion join'd, 

And look'd ahead for something dread to come. 

Concerning which all mouths were mutely dumb. 

Then rose and said, " Forgive me, my dear friends. 

As I have you for what your mind portends; 

I seek your good most solemnly I say, 



170 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Which you will learn in times not far away ; 

If you will only trust me for awhile, 

Then you will call me bless'd and on me smile. 

" But roughen up the sea and me dispatch. 
The devil then is sure to prove your match. 

"I feel like a Columbus on the sea, 

About to make a great discovery, 

And all my forces are in mutiny. 

O be persuaded, then, as was his crew 

To trust me longer but for days a few. 

Mark what I say, you then will feel and see 

And kiss the lands of my discovery. 

will you then forbear^ or will you not? 
Reveal it now, and past times be forgot." 

1 said, and sat, as waiting a reply ; 

The one who movM my leadership stood by, 
And while I speaking was, look'd in my eye ; 
Now rose upon his feet with noble grace, 
Radiant with language streaming from his face ; 
Then open'd up his mouth, and thus said he : 
" I moved 3'ou once that he our leader be. 
Why now I should retract I cannot see ; 
His noble looks and form of every limb, 
Tell us most plainly we can trust in him. 
And I believe him faithful in each act, 
And what he says, to be the real fact. 
He seeks our good, the good of you and me. 



CANTO XIII. lYl 

To bring ns to Lis great discovery ; 

Coluinbus-like to bless us more and more 

As he our pilgrim fathers did of yore. 

Though what those hlessings are we do not know ; 

But we 'd infer from what he says, although, 

That of their character he knoweth not, 

Or if he does, he doth not tell ns what ; 

And I believe 't is something we desire. 

And something worth our while for to aspire, 

Perhaps it is to bring us liberty ; 

And who would not rejoice that day to see? 

Who favors not transmission from this shore ? 

Returned to home and native land once more. 

At any rate what one would deepen crime 

Of which he would repent throughout all time ? 

"He seems to seek the things we most desire. 

To kindle in each breast a living fire, 

To do the right and stand on virtue's side. 

Though all the world should scoff, jeer, and deride ; 

Then longer let us trust him with our wills, 

And do his biddings though they lead through ills." 

Then he sat down. 

All eyes were fixed on him — 
Eyes fiird with earnestness up to the brim — 
Revealing the full meaning of the heart, 
With resolutions well to act their part, 
And where vaj will to them should e'er be known, 
It should be theirs its edicts for to own. 



172 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And tlien another rose wlio was the same. 
Who for their leader seconded my name ; * 
From side to side his gifted e)'e he threw 
To see if any stood opposed in view, 
Then said, "It doth behoove me now to say, 
Since I did second but the other day 
A move to make Hepnora chief of all. 
Which if I could, I would not now recall; 
In him I know true merit fills the man, 
To overflow. 

Mark this, for well you can : 
He was a leader born, his country knew 
And gave to him the leadership, his due. 
He honored them, and he will honor you, 
If you will trust in him, and then pull true. 

« 

"Whatever he doth promise, I believe. 
And what he saith we shall^ we will receive ; 
Nor can I think there can be the least doubt 
But that he '11 seek our good and find it out. 
Whoever favors him do not disguise. 
But show your colors and forthwith arise.''' 

When my election was, all rose in haste, 
Nor now did passing time run much to waste. 
All rose at once and bent on me confiding looks, 
Which read more plain than could be read in books 
" We'll trust you yet for many days, and see 
If then is strengthened our fidelitv." 



CANTO XIII. 173 

The movers in the case saw all at once, 
And said, "Enough ; to you we make response; 
Do as you will. To us map out the way, 
And we are yours, and anxious to obey." 

" Then make to ship," I said, "without delay ; 
The night draws on, and soon will close the day. 
And all who are disabled, halt, or blind. 
Or indisposed, let them be left behind." 
All rose at once, and so did music''s swell. 
And to its tune they march'd in order well ; 
While all to lameness and to sickness known, 
Were left behind to keep their island home. 

'T was ebb of tide, and the fain'd passage-way 
Was light with burning lamps, — as light as day. 
With music keeping pace, we entered in, 
And distant caverns echoed to our din. 

As threaded we that subterranean way, 
Forever shut from the fair light of day, 
Now viewed for first by artificial light 
From burning lamps by order hung aright. 
Scenes most superbly grand broke on the sight. 
Vast rooms are here enclosed, and seem'd a stage 
Devoted to the gods of every age. 
Where disembodied spirits from the sea 
To nature's great displays might witness be. 
And bear from hence the tidings, ocean wide. 
To every creature living in the tide. 



174 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

As timed by music's strains we march'd along, 
Echo prolonged those strains the rocks among, 
And you could almost swear as sure as doom, 
There was a band of music in each room. 

Here, too, were columns vast and pillars grand — 
As if cut out and polished by the hand — 
By hionan aid had been put in their place, 
And by divine, the rocks shoved back a s])ace ; 
And here was marble and the granite stone, 
As smooth as ivory, and like ivory shone. 

These scenes soon pass'd, we stood in open day 
Upon the wharf near where our vessel lay. 
This little harbor which so oft had been 
Highway for awful crimes and bloody men, 
Now seem'd most innocent, a little gem 
With a curved rock about it for a hem ; 
A gem that might some ocean god adorn 
As would a diamond worn upon a charm. 
Its peaceful waters seem'd to mutely say, 
"These scenes we've witness'd have now pass'd for 
aye." 

With one accord we all now went aboard, 
And each one in the armory hung his sword ; 
By breath of steam, which always here was kept. 
Our vessel from the bay to ocean swept ; 
When out upon the sea I bade them steer 
For shores of our America most dear ; 



CANTO XIII. 175 

But not to enter port, but anclior''d stand 
As near as possible up to the land, 
And there to wait till I some means could find, 
By which might be pushed forward my design. 

The order being given, onward we swept 
Across great waters of unmeasured dci)th. 
The day was calm, and ocean's azure breast 
Mirrored our ship, which never was at rest. 

But pushing on resistless in our way 
Toward tlie setting of the king of day, 
Which plainly told that the approaching night 
Would cover soon all objects from our sight ; 
And still uncheck'd, we on, and onward went 
To learn right soon what storms on ocean meant. 

Old time flew on, and midnight quickly came, 
And quietude and calm still held the reign, 
When mists began to cover up the sky, 
Which tell to mariners that storm is nigh. 
Thicker and thicker grew the gathering gloom. 
And darkness lingered when fair morn should boom. 
But day drew on and pushed thick darkness back. 
But left her cousin, shade, across the track. 
In the far west where seem'd to end the day. 
And night to stretch her sable wings away. 
Fierce lightnings leap'd from out a rising storm. 
Revealing in their wrath their zigzag form ; 
The growling thunders roll'd upon the wind, 



176 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

The swellini"' tempest lifting from behind, 
And up and up was pushed the inky mass, 
Growling and grumbling, ponderous, huge, and vast. 

Soon driving winds tore up the gulfy main, 

Whose wildness fierce no earthly power could tame, 

As though some sea-god had with fury new 

From his great mouth a dread tornado blew. 

Which lifted up the billows in the air 

To mountain height. Wild terrors revePd there, 

Before the which the fleets of ocean flew 

Or else sank down beneath the raging blue. 

As light as cork our vessel rode the wave, 
Did storm defy and ocean's fury brave, 
And notwithstanding all, we made our way 
Toward the shores of blest America. 

That storm, though of a dangerous, furious sort. 
Was like most of its character, quite short. 
And in our westward front for miles away 
Cloudless was setting the bright orb of day. 
Yet still the waves rolPd high as you may ween, 
And liquid gulfs and valleys were between, 
And over these our vessel proudly rode. 
Now up, now down, now plunging in the flood. 

But by degrees the ocean calmer grew, 
Till a dread sea no longer met the view ; 



CANTO XIII. 177 

And morning dawn found but a gentle swell, 
And land appeared in sight, and all was. well. 

We sounded then, and found a depth of sea 
Which for our safety was security ; 
We farther saiPd, and then a line let drop. 
Shut off the steam, and bade our vessel stop. 

The morning now was chasing night away, 
The sun unfurFd the light of coming day. 
Which being broadly stretch'd now hovered wide 
O'er sea and stream and rugged mountain side. 
Now through an optic glass these scenes I view'd, 
Scenes of the winding shore and mountains rude. 
Then what think you came pouring in my eyes, 
Which fiird me with emotion and surprise ? 
Those very scenes which were familiar known 
To us in those bright days forever flown, 
Where we oft rode within a skiff alone, 
At evening hours, among the years now fled, 
When love with us was young, and ive^ unwed. 

Those very scenes which oft had charm'd our sight, 
Come pouring in my soul by morning light ; 
O'ercome with deep emotions there I stood. 
Fixed as a stone and motionless as wood. 
And so wrought was I, I looked for you 
Within that skiff upon those waters blue. 

So long I look'd, and ardently I gazed 
That those who now were with me were amazed, 
13 



178 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And said, '' What ails the man ? Is he not crazM ? " 
And one there shook me up and said, "Halloo ! 
What is the matter ? we would like to know, 
That thus you stand in this lixed attitude 
Gazing so earnestly on scenes so rude." 

To which I thus : "'• Excuse me, my dear friend, 
From other times the scenes to me descend, 
Which once were viewed by me in other days 
With one made dear to me in various ways. 
It brings to mind the month and time of year 
I last beheld. It seems she must be near, 
Or some one of her kin or friend held dear ; 
And that these must in fact right soon appear.' 

While answering thus the glass I drew aside 

And look'd with naked eye upon the tide. 

And that far winding shore whose nooks and bays 

Brought back to mind those sweet, endearing days. 

When we together on this very spot 

Made vows of love we never have forgot. 

And talkM of what we should be and what not. 

How from this time had mingled been our lot. 

When lo ! a form appeared on that far shore, 

I raised the glass as I had done before, 

And saw a smiling youth of noble mould 

Unstrip his limbs and in the ocean roll. 

The waves swept o'er him as in mimic play, 

Kiss'd ]iim on every spot, then roll'd away 



CANTO XIII. 179 

As if to carry to the deep unknown 

His likeness, snatchM amid the briny foam. 

Recumbent on the briny shore to lave, 
He drank enjoj^ment in from every wave, 
Which o'er him roll'd with a most gentle surge, 
And buried up his form on ocean's verge. 

I ordered down the very lightest boat, 
And I alone stepped in, and off did float 
Toward this youth now naked on the shore, 
My power and rudder bat a single oar. 

With greatest ease I reach'd the sought-for spot 
Where this youth lay unconscious of his lot. 

The water here was hardly to my knee, — 
Quickly from boat I leaped, athletic, free. 
And seized this youth quite light of weight and fair. 
And with main strength I lifted him in air. 
And held him there aloft. He could not see 
The cause, but struggled, willful to get free, 
And no doubt thought some ocean's monster grim 
Had sought to make a morning meal of him. 

My boat to me was fastened by a line 
So it I could control at any time. 
While in the sea and out of its confines. 
He, looking down, and wiping from his eyes 
The brackish brine, saw to his great surprise 



ISO LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

My giant form and niy dt'toruiin''d face. 
And seeni'd to thiidc me void of every grace, 
An offspring of a hated, crnel race. 

"Unloo.se your grasp, audacious man," be cried, 
" And know that hiw and right are on m_v side." 
"• What do I care for laws of men 'i " I said, 
"Thev bind me not, and neither do they aid ; 
Strength is to strength opposed; you're in my j)()wer 
As in a lady's hand is a fair flower." • 

This being said, I tugged with all mj might 
To make him think he was to me quite light, 
Threw him in boat, and bade him sit upright, 
Jump'd in mvself, and quick as you could say. 
Was swiftly flying o'er the watery way 
Toward the ship, the which in a short time 
I reach'd before the morning sun did shine ; 
And bade them take us in without delay. 
Before the people rose or busy day. 



CANTO XTV. 



La Pold being taken into the pirate vnssel, is clothed u]) in 
grand style, while the vessel swiftly tlies from his native shore to- 
ward the pirate's island. He is handcuffed in the easiest manner^ 
and as he sails away, plaintively i'e|)eats the name of Euridice. 
In three days' time he has reached the island home of the pirates, 
while the tide is at its full, which fills with water the mouth of 
the famous passage-way to the island. Hepnora orders rest, and 
gladly all obey. Soon the tide recedes, and they all pass through 
to the island, where they are warmly greeted by those who had 
remained l)ehind. These being hungry, soon crowd around a 
well filled table. Hepnora orders La Pold to partake of the meal 
with them. He is revived thereby so that his face shines, and 
shows the light of God within him, which all these pirates behold 
with awe. He silently prays and seems lost to everything but 
God. He suddenly leaps from their midst and is quickly out of 
sight. Home give chase. Hepnora hurries away to a high, open 
spot on the island, which is really a great rock, secretes himself, 
and watches for La Pold, who soon appears and kneels down and 
earnestly prays, when Hepnora reveals himself and tells him he is 
his friend, and desires that both shall make oath to eternal friend- 
ship, when they both kneel together, and together swear and also 
pray. God hears their vows and prayers and .sends his messenger 
of love to answer their petitions. He causes a ship to draw near, 
which beholds their signals, which it answers, and takes them on 
board and jjroceeds on its way to America. Soon another vessel 
is seen displaying the signal of distress, which all the crew earn- 
estly watch. Hepnora inquires what attracts their attention, and 
is told there is a ve.ssel in distress, and is given a glass through 
which he sees his wife on board of the distressed vessel, and is 

[181] 



182 LA POLD AND EUKIDIOE. 

overcome by the sight, and lets the glass fall and breaks it. He 
implores the captain to save her, and is assured that he will, and 
all who are on board. The disabled vessel is soon reached, and 
they find that only her rudder is broken. The two ships are bound 
together, and all the passengers transferred to the able one, when 
the disabled one is pushed off, and taken in tow, and both proceed 
on their way, where this canto ends. 

When fairly in, I bade that he be chid 
In garments of the very best we had — 
To gently bind his hands that he might see 
He was our prisoner in captivity. 

While being done, we measur'd back our way 
Toward our island home, which far off lay. 

At height of steam the waves go rushing by, 
As from this peopled shore we swiftly fly. 

Meanwhile this youth was cloth'd in grand array, 

By the first sunshine kiss'd of rising day. 

A form more noble no one need display, 

Not of a heavy but of beauty's mould, 

With strength of body, but more strength of soul. 

He look'd both fleet of foot and clear of head. 
Thus seemM to speak the dust beneath his tread. 
His hands in lightest handcuft's were confined. 
Which for the greatest ease had been designed ; 
In these his hands were loosely clasp^l before. 
As this position gave him freedom more 



CANTO XIV. 183 

Than tlie one other clasping them heliind. 
The former was more merciful and kind. 

As he walked forth upon the deck that day 
And looked so wishful o'er the widening way 
Which rapidly increased as on we flew, 
Straining his eyes on the receding view, 
I could not well keep back the falling tear, 
So I was forced to hide away for fear ; 
Yet heai'd his murmurs and his plaintive cries 
As he repeated, '' O my Euridice ! " 
And then continued on with broken voice, 
" O Euridice, my choice, my only choice ! " 

Those earnest tones grasp'd my warm heart, and wrung 
Out agony and grief, which, oozing, clung 
Unto that heart, then drip'd into the soul, 
And multiplied therein a thousand fold. 

And yet I felt that this mysterious man 
Would somehow prove redeemer of our clan, 
Though on him deep distress had heap'd its pile, 
And all was dark. 'T would be but little while 
Before fair Fortune should upon him smile. 
And he made glorious for this awful woe. 
Which for our sakes he had to undergo. 
Like Christ for us lost mortals here below. 

Old time flew on, as rapidly did we. 

And reached at last our point of destiny, — 



184 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

Our island home. At flow was then the tide ; 
We moor'd our trusty ship at the wharf's side, 
Which now was just above the tidal sea 
Which fiird the mouth of our famM passage-way. 
I ordered rest. All gladly did obey. 

At length the tide receded, and we rose 

And entered the cave's mouth. We feared no foes 

Would here molest, for traces we could find 

Where'er we looked of those we 'd left behind. 

Great was the clattering which our footsteps made, 

Amid the gloom which did this cave pervade ; 

But pushing on w^e found the open isle. 

Where nature's works appear'd to grandly smile ; 

And we were greeted by those left in charge 

With warm expressions from their natures large. 

Now hungry we did soon the table crowd, 
Which was so full a king might well be proud. 
I bade this youth with us these blessings share. 
Which had been wrought with culinary care. 
Who thus revived was hardly to be known. 
His face like that of ancient Moses shone, 
And show'd the light of God within ; that hour 
He leaning on the staff to higher power — 
His staff of prayer to erring mortals given, 
Through which by faith we feel our way to heaven. 
And if we earnestly by faith desire. 
Will be about us a great wall of fire. 
These to our youth a long time had been known. 



CANTO XIV. 185 

Whic'li now within liis face supremely shone. 
And tiird these men behokliiig now, witli awe, 
Wlio wondered much at what in him tlioy saw. 
Which to divine or fathom tliey could not — 
Were things to them unknown, not those forgot. 

Such kindred flames I'd seen and felt before. 
And for this reason honored them the more. 
A spark from him relit, most strange and droll, 
Those dying embers smouldering in my soul. 

As when on hidden fire some oil is thrown, 
A flame springs up from sources all unknown 
And fills the space enclosed, so now in me 
These flames arose, reaching the Deity. 

I bade his hands be loosed without delay, 
His shackles were unclasped and fell away, 
And fetterless he stood in open day. 

I wish you then had seen that smile unknown. 
Which through his heavenly nature brightly shone. 
And stretch'd on tip-toe, lookM in faith away 
To the omniscient God to whom we pray, 
As though an unseen cord him had been given, 
Drop'd from, and reaching to. Eternal Heaven, 
And, gazing, he seemed to mutely pray : — 

"O thou, my Father, God, hear me this day. 
From this poluted place bear me away. 
And give me to my friends and native shore 



186 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

And all which once were mine. O God, restore ; 
And I will ever love thee and adore." 

Tlien he seem'd lost to everything around, 
Communing with the God whom lie had found, 
Who promised him pi'otecting care and aid — 
In soul-convincing whispers sweetly said, 
"I will be with you, be not thou afraid." 
Then fleet of limb and nimble as a fawn, 
Leap'd from our midst, and shot across the lawn ; 
So swift, indeed, it seemxl he almost flew. 
Though some gave chase, he soon was out of view. 

All made pretensions to arrest his fliglit. 
Yet few, if any, sought the thing outright. 

I said, " To me the passes being known 
To where the sea to open view is shown, 
I him surprised most likely here will find. 
And all alone can better fill design. 
And do more fully what I feel inclined." 

Still others sought to do and nam'd their plan ; 
I gave assent to all, and off I ran. 

• 
I took a winding path, close to the main 
Whose howl filTd full my ears, like beasts untame. 
Still on I pushed till a broad, open space 
I reach'd, which westward did our isle embrace ; 
And here I hid where I tlie whole could view. 



CANTO XIV. 187 

Conjecturing that this youth would reach this too. 
Nor waited long, ere ^nerging from a wood 
I saw his manly form, which came and stood 
Upon a rock overlooking the wide sea 
And high above, and yet so near to me, 
That all his doings I could see and hear. 
And so conceaFd he knew not I was near. 

Here on a naked rock he knelt and pray'd, 
In sight of heaven, air, sea, and forest shade ; 
And on each word were pleading volumes laid, 
Which being freighted thus was wing'd away. 
Before the throne of Him who bids us pray. 

Such earnest pleadings you can never know. 
Save from the lips of those in deepest woe. 

From his great soul did such petitions spring 
That I was sure they would swift answer bring. 
Now stepping out, I thus did him address, 
" I am your friend and partner in distress." 
At sight and sound he sprang, as from a shock, 
Then, pale and lifeless, sank upon the rock. 
Leaning his helpless head against a shelf. 
Which seeming had been form'd there for himself. 
And there he lay, all motionless and white, 
A pitiable if not a fearful sight. 
The whom surveying, I approached and said : 
"And can it be, sweet youth, that you are dead, 
Whose voice so recent with your Maker plead ? 



188 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Whose every word sank in me deeply down, 

And left behind an open, gaping wound, 

Which ever longs and bleeds and deeply feels 

With open mouth, refusing to be lieaFd, 

While from it yearnings gush, as taught by thine 

Which fain would lean upon an arm divine. 

And seek a blessing which naught else can give — 

A feeling for the which we 'd gladly live. 

Though lifeless seems your form, your own is bliss ; 

I'll raise your hand, and on it print a kiss." 

This having said, performed as was my plan, 

I raised and kissed his seeming lifeless hand, 

The uplifting, to his death-like body gave 

Sort of a passive motion or a wave 

Which o'er him crept, and from his spell-bound state 

Roused all his mighty soul with powers elate. 

The light of life reflash'd within his eyes, 

He look'd on me, and then upon the skies, 

Returning them to me he said quite low. 

Yet very full, " Art thou my friend or foe? 

And from your presence what am I to know ? 

You have a noble mind, I do believe, 

Nor can I think you would poor me deceive. 

I felt while I your captive was as yet 

That there were pearls of price within you set, 

Wliich, through the waves of darkness, blinded sight, 

As stars peep through the broken cloud at night. 

These sliow'd the character you bore within. 

Though round about you stalk'd the grossest sin." 



CANTO XIV. 189 

To whom I thus : "I am your friend steadfast 
Who like jou hjok for brighter things at last. 

"Perhaps some favored wind borne o'er the sea 
Will make return to your most ardent plea ; 
Some vessel on its lonely way may urge 
To near this spot, may from its course diverge, 
Which by us signaFd may in haste convey, 
And bear us to some land where smiles the day, 
And in this way relief to us will bring, 
Restoring us to native land and kin. 

" For you an interest I have built up, 
Since causing you to drink the captive's cup. 
Your principles within so noble were 
That when base sin did buffet and bestir. 
There seem'd to underlie a heavenly faith 
Which very few poor mortal creatures hath ; 
In sore adversity and pain so calm 
You seemed to be a more than mortal man, 
And in the mind's deep-laid and secret room 
With the Divine to constantly commune, 
And to be led by that great power unknown 
Your hand confidingly in Idfi alone. 

"As conquer'd Greece subdued her conquering foe 
And taught rude Rome the art of peace to know, 
So captive you did captor me, subdue, 
And taught me of the lovable and true. 
And unaware show'd me what I should be. 
Submissive to the power of Deity. 



190 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"I am the leader of this pirate baud, 

By force of circumstances took command. 

While thej in me confide, mj will is law. 

But one distrust would down upon me draw 

The sword of death. Then short would be my fate, 

And my position some one else would take — 

To him as dangerous as it is to me ; 

Death to be snsjyected of fidelity 

To them, however small the thing might be. 

"I deemed your course would bring you to or near 
This sightly spot. I therefore sought you here. 
While others elsewhere for you sharply seek. 
And thus is being searched each nook and peak. 

"Let God our witness be, while here alone 

On bended knee upon this mossy stone. 

Making to him our sacred wishes known 

In sight of holy heaven, land, sea, and air ; 

Affirm that ours shall sacred be as prayer ; 

That we will share life's perils both as one 

Whatever be our lot beneath the sun ; 

To mutually incur, to will, and do, and dare. 

And brave all dangers thick'ning everywhere. 

In seeking freedom dangerous to try. 

Wherever it doth seem success will lie ; 

When once embarked to shrink not though we die. 

And that our hearts be bound by friendship's chain 

Throughout our lives, no matter what restrains. 

Thus let us swear, and keep in mind that oath 



CANTO XIV. 191 

Through all our coiiiiiig lives sacred to both, 
Till life aud earthly things shall pass away, 
From one or both, such as the case may be ; 
The one that 's left to guard the memory 
Of the one dead, till pass'd to liis reward. 
And he can say what doth this life afford. 
Till finally we join beyond the tomb 
Forevermore in friendsliip's wreath to bloom." 
We both assented then and kneeling; down. 
To God alone made all our wishes known. 

Thus in fidelity we took this oath 

Which in the bonds of friendship bound us both 

So fervent and sincere ; so full of faith 

That God bent forward, and at once vouchsafed 

Both us to hear and grant our earnest plea. 

To bring us back to priceless liberty. 

As when two sons who duteous ever live 
Ask of their father what he well can give. 
With eyes suffused with tears telling their need. 
Which with great eloquence of him they plead. 
To raise them up to higher life and joy. 
And usefulness in which there 's no alloy, 

The willing father hears their warm appeal 
And feels within him all his children feel, 
And even more than what they ask he grants, 
Well pleas'd to gratify all of their wants. 



192 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

So did the great Eternal Father hear 
Our plea so earnest, heartfelt, and sincere. 
And sent in his compassion all divine 
His messenger of love to humankind. 
Freighted with heavenly blessings unto us, 
Still suppliant, humbly kneeling in the dust. 

So swift of wing he cut the ether blue 

That even thought did lag behind the view. 

As when a plummet drop\i from giddy height 

By gravitation drawn to swifter flight, 

As it toward earth's common center tends 

Non-intercepted, down and down descends, 

So drop'd this heavenly messenger of love, 

Drawn by the force of prayer to swifter move. 

As it near''d us, from whom there upward flow'd 

This stream divine, paving its proper road ; 

And there beholding us in sweet embrace 

And suppliant still before the throne of grace. 

As quick as thought the mental breezes scents 

Of our desires and wishes and intents ; 

And in the fount of blessings clear and full, 

Forever welling up for pi-ayerful souls, 

Ubiquitary, stretched from pole to pole. 

The shadows of his viewless wings he dipp'd. 

Then upon us those blessings quickly flipp'd, 

With heavenly pleasures freighted, yet to come ; 

Then o'er the ocean hurried swiftly on 

For means by which such blessings might be borne, 

And from this search he made a quick return. 



CANTO XIV. 193 

A splendid steamer in lier strength and power, 

By breath of steam swept near that veiy hour, 

Like some lone bird all plurnVl in gray and red, 

Was flying by with an uplifted head. 

Smiling on favored means the winds He freights 

With fragrant odors which this isle creates 

By growing flowers of fragrance all their own. 

Which for their odor now are widely known ; 

And spread them shipward o'er the deep unknown, 

Attracting notice of the crew thereby, 

Who, bending the ship's course, drew slowly nigh. 

When to his next in place the ca]>tain cried, 

"What heavenly odors on these breezes ride ! 

Sweet as aurora, breaths of dews and flowers 

Are all about us with inviting powers, 

Which with their breath beguile the evening hours. 

" This much is clear unto my well pleas'd mind, 
Fragrance from unknown shores floats on the wind. 
Or else some heavenly influence all unknown, 
Odors divine has widely round us strown. 
Whatever it may be awhile let 's bear 
Against these winds that such sweet fragrance wear." 

There needed no command ; as this was said 
A change in course already had been made. 
Facing the winds which these fine odors bore 
This ship was nearing now this unknown shore ; 
And up this stream of perfumes rich and rare 
Drew near the spot where we two suppliants were, 
IS 



194: LA FOLD AND EUEIDICE. 

And moving thus against the wind meanwhile 
Before their view rose up this little isle. 
" Behold,"" thej cried, "a land of uid^nown wealth. 
Whose rich perfumes give pleasure, strength, and 
health." 

Meanwhile we prayerful saw their steam ascend, 
And vessel pushing up against the wind, 
As though the objects of its course were we, 
While breezes gently swejjt toward the sea. 
When to my partner, named La Fold, thus I, 
"Way out upon the deep can you not spy, 
An object dimly rising to the sight 
Like a small cloud upon the brow of night ? "' 

"With more than watchful eye do I behold 

That far-off mote," replied my friend. La Fold , 

"Where seem the waters and the sky to meet 

It lifts its head our anxious eyes to greet. 

Defying wind and tide, seems to draw near, 

And hopes arise supplanted oft by fear, 

That it may be a ship for our relief, 

To save us through our prayers from torturing grief ; 

Our earnest prayer is heard. With joy I bow 

My soul for favors which await us now ; 

For see, as sinks from sight the king of day 

A vessel nears us from the other way, 

The harbingers of blessings soon to come 

Which are indeed about to be our own. 

The clouds of mercy, big with hopes full fledg'd, 



CANTO XIV. 195 

Are soon to burst their contents on our heads, 
And their profusions rich pour in our souls 
While some blest power our better fate unfolds." 

He said, and still more near that vessel drew. 
And soon was clear and certain to our view. 

" Thanks be to God," at once we breathed aloud. 
As full in sight steani'd up tliis^ vessel proud. 
And up in haste a signal high we waved. 
And answer came which satisfaction gave ; 
From cannon's mouth proclaiming loud and clear, 
"Your sign is recognized, and help is near." 
This vessel landward drew, with bearing proud, 
Her steam ascending up to kiss the clouds. 
Whereon it seem'd fair spirits might ascend 
To taste of heavenly blessings without end ; 
Such blessings seem'd about to be our lot 
Who now were waiting on this sightly spot. 

But soon this vessel near this island steamed, 

And like a member of the forest seemed. 

From deck and rock responsive greetings broke. 

And every tongue the selfsame language spoke. 

Then we : " Thrice welcome, kindred, you have brought 

To us salvation which we so much sought." 

From that ship's mast floated the stars and stripes 
Which fill'd with rapture our enchanted sights. 
Which to relate most gifted powers would fail 
As would this night to tell the j)leasi?ig tale. 



196 LA POLL* AND EURIDICE. 

From ship a light boat settled on the wave, 
Man'd by two skillful sailors, stout and brave. 
And with a sweep and turn and splash of oars 
Shot like an arrow for these rugged shores. 

Meanwhile we two to reach the water's edge, 
Clambered o'er rocks and many a broken ledge. 
And here, at length, the water's edge we found, 
Steep cliffs beneath the sea still running d<^wn. 

Adjacent stood thereto this little boat. 

The handsomest thing you ever saw afloat. 

It seeni'd to me a sea-born spirit fair, 

An answer sent to our most earnest prayer. 

In view of which, to me 't was doubly dear, 

A thing we could almost or quite revere. 

And those two sailors were so trim and neat. 

Who sat therein and governed it complete, 

I could have sworn they had from angels sprung, 

Quite recent, too, for they were fair and young. 

With smiles they greeted us, as we did them. 

Giving them thanks that we could hope again. 

With our own selves the skiff they bade us load, 
Which soon we did, and then away they rowed. 

About our feelings then, O who can tell ? 
As we were rock'd by every liquid swell. 
Bright home before our view prospective rose, 
So very bright, nothing could interpose. 



CANTO xrv. 197 

Onward we went, hoven by every wave, 

Now up, now down, just as the waters laved. 

We lightly rode across the watery way, 

And reacird the shi]), which did not far off lay. 

Here skillful hands lightened this little boat. 

Itself drew up, and we were all afloat. 

Then looks of untold gratitude we gave. 

To those who so had snatclTd us from the grave. 

And made us live anew with hope and cheer 

For living prospects which we hold most dear. 

Instant in circling wreathes the stream ascends 
Like breathings of a great leviathan. 
The tranquil deep approves. What doth it bear ? — 
Two great rejoicing hearts as light as air, 
Which had been swept by besoms of despair, 
And deep within the chambers of whose mind, 
Forebodings rose of a most dreadful kind. 

But now bright hopes with smiles came tri]>ping in, 
With promises so bright nothing could dim ; 
But casting looks across the watery way, 
Dreamed of the pleasures of a coming day, 
Which in our bosoms with a pleasing art 
Bent its bright rainliow o'er each thi-obbing heart, 
And many colored halos brightly shed 
Around the paths we were about to tread. 

To us, delivered men, strange feelings came ; 
It seemed as though we had been born again, 



198 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And spread to view was bright, prospective life, 
With many pleasing scenes and pleasures rife. 
Strangely contrasting with the just fled past. 
Which with its many woes had closed at last. 
And on these moments few was poised the weight 
Of many future years, pond'rous and great, 
Like mountains on a single pebble stone, 
To turn wherever slightest thing was thrown ; 
And the events of life from now would date 
Where better fortune turned the scale of fate. 
And when some great transaction cross'd our way, 
" So many years from M/^s," we'd proudly say. 

The sweet perfumes which gentle breezes bore 

With us two beings saved, were breatird no more, 

But, all engross'd, the tale they heard me tell 

Of our sad fate and history as well. 

With lips apart and eager, listening ear. 

Just like some Greecian statue doth appear, — 

The noblest emblems of the ancient art, 

Portraying attitudes of sense and heart, 

The living, list'ning attitude is shown 

Most graphic, chiseled out from lifeless stone. 

As thus they stood to hear my tale of woe, 
I told my history which so well you know. 
As if by inspiration touch'd. So grand 
An eloquence I seldom could command, 
And pathos which with it went hand in hand. 



CANTO XIV. 199 

And as I paused, I look'd in everj eye, 
When lo ! not one among the whole was dry. 

Meantime, steam-push'd, our vessel swiftly Hies 
Like some lone bird over the nether skies, 
So swift in course she cuts the waters blue. 
On either side the waves rush past the view, 
Infrojit^ prow-cut, the waters leap superb. 
Behind, they growl of quietude disturbed ; 
On either side and in the front we view 
Nothing but one unbroken sea-tint hue, 
A tint between the greenish and the blue. 

The island seem'd a little mote in rear. 

Which from our sight right soon would disappear. 

For miles on miles, way in the distant west 
The light of day was growing less and less, 
When lo ! was seen a signal of distress 
Hung on a distant ship. Our stearsman saw, 
And cried in accents trembling, rougli, and raw, 
" A vessel in distress ! " Then thoughts ran wikl. 
And anxious looks from every man and child ; 
As stretcli'd across the waves was ever}^ eye 
Striving the distant object to espy. 
These looks I saw, and said, " Pray tell me why 
Are these inquiring looks, stretching away 
Toward the setting of the orb of day ? 
Do there await for us still other woes ? 
And subject are our lives to other throes ? " 



200 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

" See ! far away," our captain then replied, 
"A vessel stranded out upon the tide.'' 
Then gave a glass through which it did appear 
As though that vessel stood up very near, 
And faces thereupon I well could see, 
As near enough to plainly talk with me. 

When to my great surprise you did appear, 
And on your face I did behold a tear. 

I was so overcome I dropp'd the glass 

And broke the instrument, which none surpass. 

And while through memory ran your form so fair, 

I cried, "As sure as fate my wife is there ! 

For heaven's sake, dear Captain, save I pray, 

And great is your reward in every way." 

That captain who for years had never known 

The touch of sympathy to brothers shown, 

Noio to his soul was probed. Great tears outgushed, 

And down across his furrowed features rushed, 

Like waters o'er a creviced rock, made bare 

By time's eternal and unceasing wear. 

" Hear me, O man," he cried ; "may God attend, 
And strike me dead if I am not your friend ; 
None shall be lost among that frightened crew. 
All must be saved, so bid your fears adieu. 
Upon our part nothing shall effort lack, 
All men in place and everything in tack. 



CANTO XIV. 201 

To rescue every life sliall be our care, 

And on jour wife nothing shall harm a hair." 

Now from our cannon's mouth, lightnings leap VI forth, 
Whose deep-toned thunders shook the South and North, 
Which to that trembling crew the signal bore 
That liope was theirs and safety at the door. 
An answering gun came btjoming o'er the wave, 
Bearing this news, "The helpless can be saved." 

'T was near the close of day, at twilight's hour, 

When mellow light displays a better power 

In showing perfectly the things afar 

Than when the sun doth all his gates unbar, 

Or at the noon-tide spreads his radiance wide, 

"Bear down upon the wreck," our captain cried, 

"Ere coming darkness everything doth hide. 

And let us know what doth this ship betide." 

Steam at full head, the ship o'er ocean flew, 

Whose face reflected everything in view. 

We soon arrived close to the vessel's side. 

Then closer stiL most quietly did glide. 

Then standing still our captain thus inquired, 

" What is your name, and what is there desired ? " 

And answer come, "Our name is ' Ocean's Queen,' 

Our rudder 's broke, we're drifting with the wind ; 

We safely float when all is calm and fair, 

But how uncertain is that when and where. 

"Throw us a rope, then be so very kind 
As to let us our vessel to j'ours bind, 



202 LA I'OLD AND EURIDICE. 

Then may this gentle, fading light be used 
For our own good and not the least abused, 
While twilight lasts, and while the faithless sea 
From all turmoil and turbulence is free ; 
Then may each soul to danger known on ours 
Be quick transferred in safety unto yours ; 
This being done, please take our own in tow 
And take her to the nearest port you know." 

He said, and all the powers approved that be. 
The air continued calm and smooth the sea. 
As he desired, a rope was quickly cast. 
And both the ships as one together lashed. 
From each to each a broad-gauge platform laid. 
O'er which you all did walk as not afraid ; 
Then over this each person's baggage came. 
And all the costly freight ended the train. 
The wreck was then push'd off, but held in tow. 
And now is being dragged by ours, you know. 
From both, columns of steam appear to be 
Both reaching up and down deep in the sea. 
Each one of these is tinged with silver gray, 
Around the which appear to grandly play 
The mellow beauties of departing day. 
You being saved, the mighty deep we plow, 
And angels have the charge to keep us now. 
One by the other drawn, we make our way, 
Across the waters of the boundless sea. 



CANTO XV. 



Address to the two vessels, "Rising Day" and " Ocean's 
Queen." After marking the outward form and display of "Ris- 
ing Day/' we are invited into her rooms, where is described what 
we there shall behold, chief of whom are Hepnora and his wife. 
Hepnora introduces his wife to La Fold, each of whom was con- 
cious wh o the other was before this. La Fold tells her that at 
first he thought she was his favored girl, but soon saw that slie 
was not. Speaks of the dark past and the bright prospects of the 
future. Hepnora's wife replies, and asks to be admitted into 
their league of friendship, to which both consent, and admit her 
with vows and prayers. They rise, and hand in hand pace the 
room to and fro, when the old vessel's bell rings out the midnight 
hour. All retire to rest, and while they slumber, the two vessels 
make their way over the ocean. Another day comes and goes, 
as does another night, and then another day and night, when with 
the morning appears the land, on which all eyes are fixed. Then 
witli an undivided shout they cry, "Hail, glorious land of our 
nativity ! " 

"Hail 'Eising Day,' and hail, O 'Ocean's Queen,' 
Two prouder ships are seldom to be seen. 
Strength, speed, and beauty are in you combined. 
Most noble products of inventive mind. 
You have our care, nothing deserves it more 
Except the living freight you hold in store. 

" While outwardly, O ' Eising Day,' mark we 
Your form and bearing on the restless sea, 

[203] 



204 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Having in tow the noble ' Ocean's Queen,' 
Each onward pnsh'd hy her on breath of steam, 
Let 's look within thy rooms. What see we ? Say ? 
Look all about you, darling, these are they — 
A nobler throng you never will behold. 
And noblest of them all is young La Pold, 
Who now is listening to us, sitting near. 
Look in his face, and see a soul sincere." 

Ilis ej^es he cast to one not far away, 

While her eyes followed his, yet naught did say. 

He rising and approaching said, "Behold 

My wedded wife, my wedded friend. La Pold." 

Both with acknowledged acceptation, bow, 
Each conscious who the other was, ere now. 

Then spake La Pold, "Hail, brave Hepnora's wife, 
I've heard about your charms all through my life. 
And now I 'm much rejoiced that I can view ; 
For hear-say, justice to them cannot do. 
And my best wish is that you may control 
Hepnora's ever daring, noble soul 
Through all the checkered scenes of busy life. 
And that hlsj?ride may be to call you wife ; 
And that you both may be forever blessed. 
And of life's joys, as of its gifts possessed. 

"But craving both your pardons, lot me say, 
As I first saw you by the light of day. 



CANTO XV. 205 

Which then was fading very fast away, 
As sure as fate and all this busy world 
1 thought you were my much-loved, favored girl. 
. But as across the room you lightly tread, 
And a peculiar toss gave to your head, 
And look'd with a strange smile into my eyes 
Without the least expression of surprise, 
I knew right well that her you could not be. 
Since you had failed to know that it was me, 
And then, on closer scrutiny, could trace 
A more experienced, tinie-tt)uched, womanly grace 
Than in her younger and more girlish face. 

" But be that as it may, I 'm joy'd to know 
Our prospects are of pleasure, not of woe. 

" Our past afflictions no one can describe 

Though Pollocks aid him and though Miltons guide. 

Hepnora's gifted powers have fail'd to tell, — 

You could not well imagine a worse hell. 

The door to mine I wish forever closed, 

Though all things else about should stand opposed ; 

Shut up in memory's chambers, let them be 

ConceaPd to every living thing but me. 

"Though, grand, Hepnora was in his review, 
Justice to woes like his no one can do ; 
And it is well for all concerned, for who 
Would wish to open up such wounds anew ? 



206 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"But why, for conscience' sake, now -let me ask, 
Should were call the filTd-with-horrors past, 
When all prospective future is as fair, 
As the first rosy tints of morning are ? " 

He ceased, and thus replied llepnora's wife : 
"O friend of him who is my very life, 
In sincere gratitude I bow to you. 
Scholar and teacher of the just and true ; 
By your example youVe Hepnora taught, 
To ask and seek for good of whom we ought. 
And that because j'ou pray'd upon that rock, 
We owe our meeting here, which is no mock. 
And, How shall we repay ? conies up to mind. 
Since we cannot redeem it by its kind, — 
By mutual good, and all is then defined. 

"Since then you two in friendship's league have join'd. 

Unheralded by any living kind. 

Let that league widened also me enfold, 

And I will enter in with all my soul. 

"Hepnora and myself being but one, 
There 's nothing should divide us 'neath the sun ; 
And whom he hates my hate shall his excel. 
And whom he loves, hira will I love as well. 

"Then let unshaken confidence which binds 
Both him and you, as firmly me entwine ; 
And may some spotless spirit from the skies 
Bind all our hearts with friendship's sacred ties, 



CANTO XV. 207 

And that same spotless spirit be our guide 

In sweet comniiniion and when severed wide — 

The light of wisdom, truth, and virtue shed 

A glorious halo round the path we tread, 

And when we shall have hllVl our mission here, 

Then may it waft us to a brighter sphere." 

She ceas'd to speak, when thus replied La Pold : 
'' So may it be, and bless'd be every soul, 
And may we to each other blessings give. 
And just as freely may we such receive ; 
And when in life we need each other's aid 
To ask therefor let 's never be afraid. 

"Let through our hearts extend endeai'ing ties 
Such as the world knows not, and cannot prize — 
Hearts sanctified to good, beneath whose eye 
All things are watched, of both the low and high. 

"By great Hepnora's plan this league was made — 
By him sought out and its foundations laid, 
And since, the record has in heaven been kept, 
And its first-fruits are these, our joy unwept ; 
And since to him these sacred bonds we owe, 
His further will and purpose we should know." 

To which Hepnora thus : "It suits me well. 
Against wife's wishes I dare not rebel. 
I did it once, then follow'd all this hell. 
About whose misery you have heard me tell. 



208 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

"If she would join our friendship's sacred league, 
We'll take her in on trial ; lest fatigue 
Should overcome her in our life-long walk, 
And she grow weary, making it a mock. 

"But ours by earnest prayers and vows was seaPd, 
So she to these likewise her soul must yield. 

"And here within this room on bended knee, 

While night is Hying unperceived, and we 

Are on the peaceful bosom of the sea. 

In supplicating posture let us bow, 

In earnestness of soul, right here and now. 

Beneath those eyes which never, never sleep, 

Swear that these bonds she will forever keep." 

All on the carpet kneel. Says she, "I swear, 
And angels aid me in my humble prayer." 

In this now empty room these three alone 
Look up in silence to the Eternal's throne, 
Making to him their wants and wishes known. 
Their silent prayer the whole apartment fills, 
And as a cork upon a stream their wills 
Are borne before Almighty Jove, the fires 
There burning of inaudible desires. 

When great Hepnora's voice rose clear and loud 
As if it had been clothed in Israel's cloud : 
"O COL descend, great God, to lend an ear ; 



CANTO XV. 209 

Hear thou our prayer, and favor what you hear. 
To friendship's league which we two brothers made, 
T]iy handmaid seeks to join in friendly aid. 

"These our two hearts unbind and bind anew, 
And in those bonds be three instead of two, 
To beat in unison for our common good, 
Both for a sister and a brotherhood. 

" Pure, undefiled, may all our feelings be 
Throughout all time and through eternity." 

He ceased to speak, and still all kneeling low 
Invoked such blessings as would God bestow, 
And thus in holy confidence unite 
Their hearts and hands in friendship's sacred rite. 

This being registered above the skies, 
They all with one consent at once arise, 
And hand in hand that room pace to and fro. 
As if to say, " So in the world we '11 go, 
Our hearts united as are now our hands, 
Whether we roam the seas or dwell on lands." 

While marching thus the vessel's old clock bell 
Rang out the midnight hour, and all was well. 

"'Tis time, and we 're invited to repose," 
Said young La Fold. " No more of life disclose 
Till weary nature finds in slumber rest. 
And we arise in morning light refreshed." 

14 



210 LA POLD AND EUKIDICE. 

He ceased, and us with one consent they all 
Retire to rest, and into slumber fall — 
Slumber which seals their wearied minds and eyes 
To everything beneath the starry skies. 
Gives them to revel, strange as it may seem, 
Within that monster land, the land of dreams, 
As quite unmindful of past woes and pain 
They, fast asleep, are wafted o'er the main 
Toward America, their own domain. 

Meantime while slumber, as with close shut blinds, 

Bar'd up the windows of these active minds 

P'rom every ray and peep of mental light, 

These vessels, as if proud of conscious might, 

Were push'd o'er ocean by tlie force of steam. 

While o'er these miiids by fancy push'd were dreams ; 

Still on, progressive waj^ the vessels made, 

And at one stearsman's touch they both obey'd. 

Time rolls the hours along, and in their rear 
Behold the purple morning light appear. 
And Venus, now a morning star, displays 
Its glorious beauty in most wondrous ways.. 

Soon morning comes. The day goes rushing by, 
Once gone, seems but the twinkle of an eye ; 
Then evening comes, and on her azure breast 
Are placed her stai-s to twinkle and to rest. 

Still on and on these vessels ever sweep 
Across the waters of th' unfathomed deep, 



CANTO XV. lil 1 

And when is fuding- the hist light of day 
These still are pushing on their watery way. 

Light came again, and bade farewell to these, 
A niixM-up crew upon these quiet seas, 
And night flew by upon the wings of time, 
Nor rest nor slumber seaPd these active minds ; 
For the next morning land was to appear, 
And every one long'd for a vision clear 
Of the rough shores of their own native land, 
With rock and hills and precipices grand. 
And oft these new-nuide friends look'd eye to eye 
As the dark hours were swiftly wheeling by. 
As if to say, " With pleasure we will keep 
The vows by which increasing joys we reap." 

The morning light now chases night away. 

The sun unfurls the wings of coming day, 

Whose outstretch'd plumes now hover broad and wide 

O^er ocean's face and mountain's rugged side. 

And every eye is stretch'd o'er waters blue 

To see if land yet rises to the view, 

Nor look they long ere in their front and west 

The cherished sight is to their eyes address'd. 

And cheer on cheer goes jostling o'er the sea, 
'•'• Hail^ glorious land of otir nativity! " 



CANTO XVI. 



The mixed crew of the two vessels, "Ocean's Queen" and 
"Rising Day" survey the shore of their native land, and talk 
about the things they have there seen and heard. One tells about 
La Pold disappointing Euridice. La Pold replies, and tells why 
he disappointed her, which was against his will. These two ships 
enter the bay with great ease, and as all are excited about the 
prospects before them. La Pold sits down and weeps at the thought 
that the times he once here enjoyed are passed away forever. 
Whistles from these vessels awake him from his reverie, and he 
finds himself in the harbor and saved at last. These sworn friends 
group together and talk confidentially with each other, and 
thoughts are communicated by looks, and canto sixteen ends. 

Now from the deck the motley crowds survey 
The land outstretched, yet quite a space away, 
And talk about the sights which there they 'd seen. 
The deeds of life to which they M witness been 
On that far shore which now before them lay, 
In other times and in a brighter day, 
When hope in life had on them brightly shone, 
Whose constellation had since then gone down. 

And there was one who said, " In fact, of late, 
A strange event occurred, of recent date. 

" Near where I 'm known, there is a charming maid, 
Who languishes her life away, 't is said, 

[213] 



CANTO XVI. 213 

For one La Fold, whom she believes is dead, 

Or else confin'd somewhere against his will, 

As he has failM his promises to fill. 

And others saj (though tliey do n't really know) 

He had another string tied to his bow, 

And with that other, had most strangely flown 

And secretly, to place and parts unknown. 

" But most believe the maid, whose tale though queer 
Had in it all her soul, — -a soul sincere, 
Whose judgment is correct, and mind so clear. 
That in these gifts there 's no one found her peer. 
Around the whole there hangs a mj'stery droll. 
And the great question is. Where is La Fold ? " 

La Fold approach'd, and holding up both hands 
Cried out like one of old, " Behold the man ! ■" 

To whom he thus : " Are you, indeed. La Fold ? 
Renowned for wisdom, learning, youth, and gold, 
Far-fam'd as ever gracious, just, and true, . 
Forever doing just what he should do? 
And art thou truly he ? " He said, '" T is true. " 

To whom the stranger thus : " There is a maid 
Whose worth is great, as it is truly said. 
Whom you have deeply wrong'd (so rumor says) 
By proving false, have darkened all her days ; 
That you have with a far less worthy fled. 
While this dear girl believes that you are dead, — 



214 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Or if by chance you may be living still, 

You 're somewhere held a captive 'gainst your will. 

" No one can shake her confidence in you, 
Her love is steadfast and forever true. 

" O heartless wretch, that you could thus deceive ! 
Yet her you have, I verily believe." 

To whom La Pold, with indignation thus : 

" O judge, most hasty and alike unjust. 

You do not know at whom these darts you thrust. 

Nor have you known this more than earthly maid, 

Or else you would believe what she has said. 

"She knows right well no girl can come between 
Herself and me, not even in a dream. 
And I do know with confidence as sure, 
No man can come between us, rich or poor. 

"Know then, that recently, late into May, 
We were engaged to meet at close of day 
Within a certain place in certain way. 
That very morn, while bathing in the sea, 
A giant hand seized hold of helpless me. 
And then as though I had been but a child, 
Threw me into a skiff and on me smil'd ; 
Jump'd in himself, as nimble as a deer. 
And quick as thought then oceanward did steer 
Unto a waiting vessel, fleet as day, 



CANTO XVI. 215 

Which took us in and bore us both away 
Into a waste of waters all unknown, 
Where pirates do a lonely island own. 

"Thus was I held by force, though most unwilling, 
Preventing me from promises fulfilling. 
You have this mystery now to you made clear. 
Now hear my tale and ponder what you hear. 
Then in a different light will all appear.'" 

And then he told that tale with pathos rare. 
That touching tale, which I have con'd with care ; 
And while describing her by him held dear 
Each present qjq was jnoisten'd with a tear. 

There is indeed a most mysterious power, 

By which all hearts are touch'd, and as a flower 

Bows 'neath the rain descending from the cloud, 

So bows before it every mortal proud 

Who feels within, its spirit bearing sway. 

As it incites, so feel and follow they, 

As when high waves by tempests lashed to foam 

Dash on the shore, then to their secret home 

Roll back into the unknown depths beneath. 

Silent and dark, only to find relief 

When by some deep and stirring cause again 

They 're brought to float upon the liquid plain ; 

So this^ wave-like, and surging just as strong. 

O'er seas of upturned faces swept along, 

The which each mind took in, and swallowVl down — 



216 LA POLD AND EUKIDICE. 

A living seed to germinate anon, 

And bear themselves away o'er living seas, 

Planting their kind again in minds like these. 

So when La Pold his touching story told, 
This power came forth, and o'er his listeners rolPd. 
All mute they stood, by wrapt attention stilPd 
While deepest sympathy their beings fill'd. 
Each act was felt, and treasured every word. 
And all was noted down as soon as heard. 

Meanwhile these vessels shoreward swiftly swept, 
Nothing to hinder or to intercept. 

" We near tlie shore! " they cry. All eyes uplift, 
See rock o'er rock, and rising cliff o'er cliff, 
And distant mountains, tow'ring rude and high, 
Holding their summits up to kiss the sky ; 
And over all — in air, on sea, and land, 
They read in nature's cliaracters most grand, 
Stamp'd with the die of all eternity 
By God's own hand, the name of "Harmony." 

With greatest ease these ships enter'd the bay. 
Just as the sun rose o'er the watery way 
And clothed the mountains in a halo quaint, 
Which nature'8 Architect alone can paint. 

Amid these scenes La Pold sat down and wept, 
Such strange sensations through his being crept. 



CANTO XIV. 21 

The by-gone scenes of younger, happier days, 
Came up before him in a thousand ways, 
And witli sad voices wliisperVl o'er and o'er, 
" You may return, but we'll return no more ; 
You may meet your Euridice face to face 
But we shall never witness tlie embrace ; 
Our faces you will not behold again, 
Nor from our voices hear the sweet refrain." 

While these reflections paced across his mind. 
He seem'd as lost to all of humankind. 

But soon these vessels whistled loud and shrill, 
And echo screamed from hill to distant hill 
(Where farther off summit o'er summit rose) ; 
And brought his reveries to a speedy close. 

He started up, and looks about him cast. 
He in the harbor was, and saved at last. 

From ship to wharf a stream of life did pour, 
Anxious to tread again their natal shore. 

These now, sworn friends, to liberty restor'd. 
Together group and tell what life affords — 
What end or aim they all should have in view. 
The which to gain, what course they should pursue. 
Confiding looks which we cannot explain, 
Leap out from eye to eye and back again. 
And what each says, in weight, was truly weigh'd. 
Considered well, and in the balance laid. 



CANTO XYII. 



Hepnora, his wife, and La Pold being sworn friends, agree to 
share thi; toils of life together, about which thej' earnestly counsel. 
Hepnora suddenly rousing from these deliberations, discovers he 
is in his own native city, which he makes known to his wife, and 
proposes to go immediately home, where he may again see his 
darling boy. The three proceed on the way, and every street 
appears to welcome Hepnora. They reach the old domestic gate, 
which, as it swings, almost seems to speak on its hinges. They 
enter the porch and ring the door-bell. Cousin May comes to the 
door, and is surprised to find Hepnora's wife so soon returned, 
who desires to be shown to the boy,' but is told that he is sick, 
and unconscious, and probably never will get well. This news 
paralyzes Hepnora, and also shocks his wife. La Pold chastises 
them for their want of faith, and proposes to pray for the child, 
and expects to be answered as he has been in darker times. Hope 
and consciousness resuming their thrones in Hejinora and his 
wife, all proceed to the child's room, where beside the bed they 
kneel and earnestly pray. La Pold talcing the lead. God hears 
and answers prayer. All see a great change for the better. 
Hepnora tells his belief to La Pold, that he holds a place 
close to the throne of grace, and when he prays, God always hears 
and answers. As a light from heaven lightens up the counte- 
nance of Hepnora, he is known by his son, who asks what has 
prolonged his stay, and inquires if this is not a dream. Then he 
wishes to prove to the world that there is such a thing as human 
weal. 

La Pold, Hepnora, and Hepnora's wife 
Agree as one to share the toils of life, 

[218] 



CANTO XVII. 219 

Together battle in its stormy field, 

And be to one another sword and shield, 

Defend each other from its crying wrongs. 

And give to each what to each one belongs, 

To stand for right till bonds of life be pass'd. 

And bound by friendship's chain reach heaven at last. 

While to mature their plans in council join'd, 

They seem'd as lost to everything around. 

From this Hepnora roused as from a trance, 

And threw about a hasty, searching glance ; 

Then said : " What do these eyes behold, dear wife ? 

This is our native city, sure as life. 

Familiar to my eyes is every look 

As are the pages of a well-read book ; 

As thoughts are there revealed in every line 

So here, each street tells stories of its time, — 

What once took place therein long, long ago, 

When you a maiden were, and I a beau — 

In those bright days when we were yet unwed. 

Yet by the cord of love most strangely led. 

" But let us go and find our quiet home. 
And be it mine from it no more to roam 
In foreign lands, or o'er the boundless sea, 
But live in quietude and peace with thee. 
O let my eyes again behold the sight 
Which cheer'd my heart in days of fairer light. 
But my most cherished, highest, chiefest joy, 
Will be again to see my darling boy. 



220 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

But time no doubt has wrought in him a change 
Which to behold would be a pleasure strange. 

"Without delay, then, thither let us go." 
The three arose and moved away, not slow. 
Toward the street and number of that home, 
Which to Hepnora was familiar known. 

The streets they threaded seem\l to him old friends, 

Who after absence long he M met again ; 

And when he saw the changes these had known, 

A hand Divine with gratitude did own. 

That had so strangely led him through these years 

So rife with awful dangers, blood, and tears — 

Had brought him back in a mysterious way, 

To see the friends of quite another day. 

Familiar were the streets through which he walk'd, 
And e'en his footstep's sounds arose and tulk'd. 
His heart beat faster as they near'd the spot. 
Where in another day was cast his lot ; 
And as he moved, remembered more and more 
About what happen'd in the days of yore. 
When he was young as he had been before. 

At length they reached the old domestic gate, 
Through which he oft had pass'd, early and late, 
And as to touch the lifeless structnre swung. 
It seem'd almost as if it had a tongue. 
Its music, just the same as 'twas of old. 



CANTO XVII. 221 

Now with its fingers tonch'd Hepnora's soul. 
And in one moment volumes vast unroll'd ; 
Those volumes here I pause not to rehearse, 
Your mind can better paint them than my verse. 
They enterd, and approached the old street door, 
That path Hepnora's feet had trod before. 

The yard deck'd with flowers and evergreen trees, 
Now rendered more fragrant and cooler the breeze. 
The world he had touched and its cruelties seen, 
And great was the contrast standing between ; 
He saw all at once in one hasty glance. 
The past rushing by him, he in a trance, — 
All fell in upon him, conflicting and dire ; 
But standing out bolder, and rising up higher. 
Was the old gallant ship, wasting with fire. 
And over all these of noise and of strife. 
Came the words of his comrades pleading for life. 
And failing ; their groans came like a death-knell. 
As off came their heads which muttering fell. 
And those awful looks came again to his mind. 
The wild looks of death, yet from living kind ; 
And he almost felt the terrible blow 
Which severed their heads and bodies in two, 
Yet none of the others saw this or knew. 

Meantime, Hepnora's wife had led the way. 
And now stood in the porch at early day. 
And near by her tliere stood the other two. 
Conjecturing in themselves what she would do. 



222 LA POLD AND EDRIDICE. 

She seized the bell-crank, turning it around ; 
The bell rang out, and echo chased the sound 
Through every room, lingering in each alone, 
As if it lov'd to still prolong that tone. 
Footsteps were heard, was opened the street door, 
And a sweet face stood near it and before. 

" What ! returned so soon ! " excitedly it cried, 

As our Hepnora's wife it sharply eyed ; 

"And has success your earnest efforts crown'd ? " 

As with those heavenly eyes it look'd around. 

And saw Hepnora closely at her side, 

(And meek La Pold, looking to her as guide). 

" Yes, I 've return'd," replied Hepnora^s wife, 
"And with me brought my husband, dear as life, 
And with him is my husband's friend, La Pold, 
Renown'd for trusting God with all his soul. 

"He comes to share our hospitality 
And thereby honor us. and may be, thee.'''' 

"Yes, I've returned," continued the good wife, 
" And with me brought a strange affair of life ; 
I 've found Hepnora with a second wife, 
Wedded with vows inviolably strong, 
And raised the question, Where do I belong? 

"Though stranger still to say, he is a man ; 
This has no equal since the world began, 



CANTO XVII. 223 

And is a puzzler on Ilepiiora's part 
To find him in the center of my heart, 
And who can say between himself and me, 
It may not darken love with jealousy. 

"But be that as it may, by vows we three, 
Are bound, in honds of strict fidelity. 

"But lead us on and show us to our boy, 
To know he knows his Pa will be a joy." 

To which this lovely face gave answer low : 
"My lady, dear, 'tis plain you do not know 
Your child unconsciously lies ill and low. 
Whether to live or die no one can tell. 
The doctors say he never can get well." 

Dear reader, did you ever see a man 
With palsy stricken down \ If so, you can 
Form some faint shadow, or a thought of him. 
Who at these news lost use of everj^ limb. 
And motionless and pale fell on the floor, 
While death upon a hah' seem'd hanging o 'er. 

And he who had fac'd such all times of year. 
Before whose gaze robbers shrank back with fear, 
And murderous thoughts took wings and flew away. 
Affrighted at the things he might essay. 
Now sank in sorrow down, without relief. 
At this most unexpected news of grief, — 



224 LA POLD AND EUKIDICE. 

The illness of his young and helpless child, 
Who once in filial fondness on him smil'd. 

There is a power which doth subdue the strong 
By gentle means, and reaching over wrong 
Touches the deep-laid heart-strings of the soul, 
To which they deeply vibrate strange and droll. 
To this, the force of earnest prayer, we owe. 
Which bends the will of God our plea to know. 
That what we ask his mercy may bestow : 
It goes behind the scenes of human skill. 
And takes the garrison by love, at will. 

By this great tower of strength Hepnora fell, 

Surrendering up himself, and strength as well. 

And all subdued, he cried, " O spare my sou, 

Ubiquitary God, Eternal One, 

Nevertheless, tJiy wiJl^ not mine, be done." 

Too mother and the wife fell on the floor 

And aid divine, in earnest did implore. 

When thus La Fold : " My new-made friends, O why 

Yield to despair ? The loved one will not die. 

For darker clouds than this I have seen pass. 

And leave the sun still shining at the last. 



'& 



"When reason plainly said, 'Sure all is lost,' 
And every living hope was tempest-toss'd, 
That storm rolTd back before the force of prayer. 
The stars come out, and all again was fair. 



CANTO XVII. 225 

" So sliuU disease roll back while we do praj, 

And in jour child shall smile a healthy day. 

Then let us enter and united be 

In faith communing with the Deity ; 

And while we look unto the throne of grace, 

Just watch the expressions of the suffei"er\s face, 

And be convinced that earnest prayer is heard 

Though there be utt-er'd not a single word." 

At this reproof, so noble in its tone. 

The light of hope in these resumed its throne, 

And daylight shone again into the soul 

Where darkness had been stretched from pole to pole. 

Now gathering up their scattered strength, they rose 

With faith supreme which nothing could oppose. 

And when a cyclone seems to nature born, 
And sudden furies blacken heaven with storm, 
While deep-ton'd thunder rumbling long and loud 
Shakes fear and terror from the murky cloud. 
Stricken with awe, we hold awhile our breath 
And look for ruin and impending death ; 
When unexpectedly the clouds roll by. 
And far above is seen the azure sky. 
And 'merging from the cloud, the glorious sun 
As brightly shines as he has ever done. 
And what we thought our ruin well reveal'd, 
V\^as but a shower refreshing every field. 

So these felt in themselves the storm pass by, 
AVhile in their souls, hope's sun was riding high. 
15 



22(3 I^A rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Who stood within the door was Cousin May, 
As by a goddess graced she led the way 
To the sick room, where the poor sufferer lay, 
With burning fever scorch'd, gasping for breath, 
And seeming in the agonies of death. 

Ilepnora more than anxious for first sight. 
Beholding, shrank away in wild affright. 
All pale and prostrate in the nearest chair. 
His wife was seized with rigors of despair, 
Fixed in her tracks, all motionless she stood. 
As pale as marble and as dumb as wood. 
His shrunken, haggard features to behold 
Clasp'd her warm heart with fingers icy cold. 

There seemed no clue for hope to seize upon. 
And reason said, ''All chance for him is gone." 

Amid this sad and most exciting scene. 
Unmoved stood young La Fold ; while his fair mien, 
ShowM faith was filling up his mighty mind. 
Communing with the Father all Divine. 

When he then thus : " My friends in deep despair, 
Here let us lift our hearts to God in prayer 
That this young child may be return'd to life, 
A blessing to Hepnora and his wife." 

He said, and reached to each a helping hand 
Such as the occasion seemed to then demand. 



CANTO XVII. 227 

And btide tliein both to kneel beside the bed 
With heart uplifted, and bowed l<jw tlie head. 

In undisputed silence both obey'd, 
And knelt together, and together pray"'d. 
While just across upon the other side, 
Knelt our La Fold, the boy did these divide, 
Who just between them all unconscious lay. 
When thus La Fold gave all his soul away : 
"O thou Eternal and Ubiquitary One, 
Thy will on earth as 't is in heaven, be done. 
Who doth vouchsafe each earnest plea to hear, 
And who to those in sorrow doth draw near ; 
Who didst behold me on that naked rock, 
With anguish filPd and at a late o'clock, 
When darkness and despair were drawing near. 
And I borne down with woe, trembling with fear, 
Did cry to thee from out this depth of grief. 
From which thou didst vouchsafe a sure relief. 
When all about was darkness and despair. 
Didst deign to hear and answer then my prayer. 
And sent a means of safety by which we 
Were given back to friends and liberty. 

"O breathe the breath of health upon this boy, 
Make him again his father's pride and joy ; 
O lift him from this pit of miry clay. 
Bring him in health and safety on life's way. 
The power is tliine, and we'll forever pray." 



228 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And every word went up before the throne, 

Back'd bj the three, and all their hearts were known. 

The Father saw these earnest prayers arise. 
Which like an altar's incense clim'd the sjcies, 
And as his will is to make haste to hear, 
And answer those who thus to him draw near, 
The angel of his many mercies sent. 
To follow down this stream of prayer intent, 
And to its warm appeal swift answer give. 
And bid this child again revive and live ; 
As quick as thought this Mercy's angel mild 
Descends and showers his mercies on the child, 
Like cooling drops from a refreshing shower. 
And quench'd his burning fever in an hour, 
And to the parts diseased imparted balm ; 
Fierce tortures ceased, and followed a great calm ; 
Pain ceased to rack, and nature sank to sleep, 
While faithful angels did their vigils keep. 

Deep silence follow'd this most earnest prayer. 
While those engaged continued kneeling there. 
With hearts uplifted and with heads bow'd low, 
In stillness saying, "Father, God, hestow.'''' 

But soon convictions told them prayer was heard, 
Most firm convictions saying not a word, 
When all with one accord arose to see 
A change from pain to sweet complacency. 



CANTO XVII. 229 

Now the boy lay in slumber soft and sweet, 
In perspiration bathed from head to feet, 
With perfect resignation in his face, 
In which no pain and suffering could you trace. 

All felt within, their plea had granted been. 
When great Hepnora thus much-pleased began : — 

" I of a surety know, my lovVl La Fold, 
That you close to the throne of grace do hold 
A favorite place, and God doth hear you pray 
When unto him you call, by night or day. 

"I long have held that there are those who stand, 
Close to this throne, held by the unerring hand 
Of the All-Seeing One. And when they pray, 
The Father hears and opens up the way. 

" I now am clinging to that self-same view, 
And this much-favored class embraces you. 
You have the power, and likewise hold the place, 
By which you reach the heavenly throne of grace, 
Who by compassion moved, his will doth bend 
Your wants and inmost wishes to attend. 

"This key you hold which is the force of prayer, 
I first beheld it when you laid it bare. 
While kneeling on that high and naked rock, 
By which you did the gates of heaven unlock. 



230 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"I felt just then that answer sure would come, 
That in some way you would be carried home. 
But O ! the beauties I can never name 
Of the means used, — that vessel on the main 
Which proudly steam'd across the waters blue, 
And took into itself both me and you. 

" I need repeat no more ; what see we here ? 
Enough to make most stulti'ed hearts revere. 

"Through you that power has stooped to bless the 

young, 
To give relief where pain and torture stung. 
Behold that boy now wrappM in slumber sweet. 
And we communing at the mercy-seat. 

" O gratitude divine, how sweet thou art. 
You fill my soul, while love enchains the heart ; 
I stand submissive, and would ever pray 
That God would lead us in the better way — 
Through life and death, to heaven's eternal goal, 
My wife, my child, myself, and my La Fold."" 

He ceased to speak, and silence reign'd awhile, 
Save the low breathing of the slumbering child. 
All felt the presence of a heavenly power 
In a strange way, and joy roll'd on the hours. 

And thus they watch'd and not a word was said, 
When all at once the child turned in the bed. 



CANTO XVII. 231 

Just then tbrougli rifted clouds shone grace divine, 

Into the chambers of Hepnora's mind ; 

The which reflected, lightened up his face 

To more than wonted glow, and you could trace 

A more than earthly beauty there, 

Which very seldom we poor mortals wear. 

The boy unclosed his eyes while thus this shone, 
And by the child the sire at once was known ; 
And in a child-like voice and child-like way 
ExclaimM, " O Pa, what did prolong your stay ? 
O tell me truly, tell me, is this you ? 
Or do I dream ? O no indeed, 'tis true. 

" To be a dream, too real all things appear. 
These walls around me and these faces dear, 
And many deep convictions rising here 
In reason's three-fold voice, all answer, 'No.' 
O bow your head, on me a kiss bestow, 
That to this meeting it may be a seal. 
Which to unloose, would this one thing reveal. 
That there is such a thing as human weal. 



CANTO XYIII. 



Father and son kiss each other, then the father presses the 
boy to his breast. The mother weeps for joy, then asks why 
he holds him thus, and tells him to put him downiest fever should 
return, which he does, while overcome with joy. The boy just 
at sunset opens his eyes, and looks around and desires a kiss from 
all, which is granted. Time ends all, so it does this meeting, and 
shortly all retire to rest. The next morning they meet again in 
this same room. The boy and the father relate their experience 
since they last parted. Hepnora tells why La Pold is with them. 
Their record shows that when the son felt most of prayer, then 
the father escaped the greatest dangers. Prayers of childhood. 
La Pold and Euridice unexpectedly meet at a party, and both 
shriek with surprise. La Pold proposes that they be here and 
now united in matrimony, which being done, these brothers in 
soul were made brothers of blood. 



The father stooped, gave and received a kiss, 

In which tliere was a heavenly, lingering bliss, 

Which both partook. The boy look'd up and smiled, 

In which was all the fullness of the child 

To health and strength restored. All saw the change, 

And questioned oft, "Indeed, is this not strange?" 

The father was electrified with joy, 

And, lost to all about, exclaimed, " My boy ! " 

Then liim unto his bosom closely pressM, 

Said, "Father, God, we bow to your behest." 

[3321 



CANTO XVIII. 233 

As wlien the crystal dews descend in showers, 

Shook by the breeze from gentle, nodding flowers, 

So fell the tears from this fond mother's eyes, 

Shook by the breath of love which never dies, — 

The tears of humble gratitude and joy 

For heavenly favors shown toward her boy ; 

And anxious still lest all might not be well. 

Exclaimed, ''Why do you hold him thus, pray tell? 

Put down the boy, and let him rest awhile, 

Lest fever should return more fierce and wild 

Than it has e'er before. Trust not too far, 

Lest ruthless rashness should break through and mar 

The work of heavenly grace so well begun. 

Avert these dangers threatening now our son." 

The father, lost awhile to all about, 

Look'd up to know if there was any doubt. 

With watchful eye laid back the unconscious son, 

Observing closely what was being done ; 

Watch'd every look awhile, then softly said, 

" Sweet be your rest, dear child, and soft your bed. 

While heavenly blessings rest upon your head." 

All wonder-filled they sat, and all amaz'd, 

And oftentimes on one another gaz'd ; 

Then to the couch the self-same looks descended. 

Low breath'd the child, and slumbers him befriended. 

Sweet sleep, restorer of our wasted powers, 
Was now refreshing him as dews, the flowers, 



234 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

While reason bade the anxious ones to wait, 
Til] nature be restored, and animate. 

Old time rolPd on. And the bright orb of day, 
Down western skies pushM his resistless way. 
And near the hill, about was going down. 
When he from sleep no respite yet had found. 

To these most anxious waiters time seem'd long, 
Each wondering oft, if something was not wrong ; 
Yet to awaken him none hardly dare, 
Of his much-needed rest being aware. 

Just then, as though his string was all unwound. 
He opened up his eyes, and look'd around. 

That moment through the shutters brightly shone 

A streaming ray from the descending sun. 

And kiss'd his cheek, making a deeper tinge, 

Encircling it with a deep crimson fringe. 

Which spoke a better language than could tongue, 

Of health restored to the beloved and young. 

Of foul disease push'd back, and life preserved. 

And victory given where victory was deserv\l. 

And you could almost swear you saw within, 

His soul, — deep down, all pure and purged from sin. 

Fi-om his expressive eyes around were thrown, 
Inquiring looks on known and the unknown. 
And from them sprang a pure and holy light 
Such as the stars show forth in a clear night. 



CANTO XVIII. 235 

As stars look down and smile mid tranquil blue, 
So shone his eyes mid that soul-touching hue, 
And spoke of immortality their due. 
When soon from his mild lips these accents fell, 
'^ O where am I ? Can any being tell ? 

" Wherever it may be, there 's hope and cheer ; 
And the most sacred friends whom life holds dear, 
With Fa, whom we thought lost, are gathered here 
From nnknown seas. Sweet joys draw near ; 
While some celestial influence all unseen 
Pervades this room, and has made sweet my dreams, 
And this fair stranger here, to me unknown, 
Warms close toward me as my kinsman own. 

"This place is sacred, and I feel 

As though a kiss from each, these scenes should seal." 

All rose, and pressVl his overflowing lips, 
And each from them the sweetest nectar sips ; 
That nectar in its character partook 
Such as we gather from a guileless look, 
When a sweet child, possessed of heavenly powers, 
Pours out its overflowing heart in ours ; 
Who has not felt such flow of untold worth, 
While mixed with playful innocence on earth ? 
Then what from him who now was lying here ? 
That which he tasted was indeed more dear, 
And high above-all others held a place. 
Which nothing from the memory could efface. 



236 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

But time ends all, so it hath ever done, 
And it this meeting did, at set of sun, 
When stars came forth and twinkled one by one. 
Then time drew on the silent shades of night, 
O'er vale and stream and lofty mountain lieight. 
And everything with darkness did pervade, 
And in this room its silent vesture laid ; 
And yet there was in in every breast within. 
The light of love which time can never dim. 

But soon this room is filPd with bright lamplight, 

Expelling from the same the shades of night, 

And all into their several rooms retired 

To find the needed rest they all desired, 

And soon were wan'dring, strange as it may seem. 

Within that monster land, the land of dreams. 

Night noiseless through the air is flying o'er, 

Waving her shadowy wing on every shore. 

And shakes from out her plumes sweet, downy sleep 

To all those who nature's vigils keep. 

So to these it gave that sweet relief, 

And sealed their eyes to every irksome grief. 

But time flew on, and night went rushing by, 
And morn soon streak'd the oriental sky, 
Rousing each sleeper from his deep repose ; 
And waking from their dreams, these friends arose, 
And met where last they parted at the close 
Of yester evening's hour. 



CANTO XVIII. 23/ 

The boy, refresh'd, 
His glowing mien his thoughts and hopes expressM, 
And as the peaceful ocean maps the sky 
So was his inner soul mapM in his eye, 
Which spoke of purest pleasures deep within, 
A soul of sweetness unalloyed with sin. 

And blooming health here lifted up its head, 
And show'd its face, and smiling, softly said, 
" Behold me here this unexpected hour. 
Not of my own but of a higher power." 

The father, mother, and the gifted boy. 

Mingled their tears and souls in fullest joy. 

The mother hears the thrilling tales they tell, 

Father and son on life's tempest'ous swell. 

And weeps for untold thankfulness that they 

Have been permitted thus to meet that day ; 

And by Hepnora touchingly was told, 

Why with him now was his young friend. La Fold ; 

In what strange way both him and wife had met, 

And how life's joys were waiting for them yet. 

The boy responded, fiird to overflow. 

And told his history since, some years ago, 

They parted, and anxieties arose, 

And push'd aside whatever did oppose ; 

And what his youthful breast had known and felt. 

How at his bedside he had nightly knelt. 

And pray'd that God his father would protect 



238 LA I'OLD AND EURIDICE. 

From dangers dread ; and all his steps direct. 
And oft he felt his earnest prayer was heard 
From evidence which can't be told by words ; 
Nor need I say this no one can explain, 
Except to. those who've felt a kindred flame ; 
And hence this fact again itself did show, 
We can not reason, but from what we know. 
And when their dates of record they compare, 
They found that when the boy felt most of prayers, 
The father then escaped the worst of snares. 

The prayers of childhood, little understood, 

O who can weigh or fathom half their good ? 

Or who can measure what these prayers have done ? 

But what about these friends, cousin, and son ? 

They often met, and counsel'd day by day 

And for each other's good much did essay. 

And mutual interest pav'd the mutual way. 

Now, in the secret bosom of La Fold, 
No one had entered in, to scan the fold, 
But he had plann'd therein as much as twice, 
The way he should surprise his Euridice, 
As she knew naught, as yet, of his return. 
But sought in vain his whereabouts to learn. 

The place in which she lived he always knew, 
And tliat held up most sacredly to view. 
And sought to make her feel that solid facts. 
Were stranger than imaginary acts. 



CANTO XVIII. 239 

As widely different as these always are, 
They oft go hand in hand and never war. 
The latter are the offs[)riii«;s of the first, 
How can they differ then ^. and which is worst? 
The latter are most beautiful and fair, 
Whose likeness nearest to the former are. 

Then talk not of the sins of a romance, 

When nearest truth, most beautiful is chance. 

'Twas known that our La Pold had friends quite near, 

Yet no one knew who these friends were, or where. 

The S(!cret was within himself conceaFd — 

Not even to TIepnora was reveaPd, 

That the more perfect might be the surprise 

Of the plan'd meeting with his Euridice. 

The leave of absence had been granted him, 

To carry out his secret plan within ; 

But ere that time, 't was meet that there should be, 

A gathering of the friends and family, — 

A party large, to meet and sip at tea. 

The time was fix'd, and invitations out, 
And all things put in order thereabout, 
And soon came round that ever busy day, 
When at this home were met the young and gay 
From other homes for miles on miles away ; 
And our La Pold, from care and business free, 
Came here to join the gathered revelry. 
And all was gaiety, and bright, and fair. 



240 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And music swells were liigli, and "nil were there, 
And joy on tiptoe of expectancy 
Breatli'd pleasing mirth, and laughter just as free. 
And eyes look'd telling language into eyes, 
Which gave warm glances back without disguise. 
All held sweet intercourse, tongue, eye, and heart, 
Which no forbidding influence kept apart. 

La Pold beheld the language of the looks, 

Which told more feeling than could many books. 

And to himself communion held this wise, 

" How perfect this would be could Euridice 

But smile thereon, this very hour. 

And my heart y^e?^, as it Jias felt^ her power. 

Just then came up Hepnora's wife, the pride 
Of all the throng, and sat down by his side, 
Looked in his face and said (confiding low), 
" Come with me, and my sister you shall know." 

She led him to a room where two or three 
Had gathered, talking up a secrecy. 

As these two entered, all at once arose. 

And showed a feeling pen cannot djsclose. 

La Pold caught up and lost in wild surprise. 

Without reserve cried out, " O Euridice ! " 

And clasped a lovely maiden in his arms. 

Who shriek'd in turn, and screamed a loud alarm. 

These chased each other throuijh the rooms around. 



CANTO XVIII, 241 

'Rousing in course iistonisliment profound, 

While looks of pallid fear and wild surprise, 

Like lightnings leap'd from blushing beauty's eyes. 

All sought to know the cause of such strange sounds. 

In search of which, sharp looks were cast around. 

And searching glances through the open door 

Into this room incpiiringly did pour, 

Where, in strong arms, was held another life, 

The far-fara'd sister to Hepnora's wife. 

Unconscious of the looks which her still eyed. 
And lost to all about, she wildly cried, 
''(3 tell me, dearest, whither hast thou been? 
And why from thence, hast thou returned again ? 
Is this the place we promised for to meet, 
Where, failing, you made all things incomplete ? 

"Alas ! those hours in which I looked for bliss. 
But brought me wretchedness and deep distress. 
To that appointed place you came not near ; 
Now, least expected, lo ! you meet me here." 

Answered La Pold : " And such indeed, is life. 
By disappointment cross'd, with trials rife. 
When joy is looked for, it doth flee away ; 
And, unexpected, meets us, as to-day. 

" Upon our stem are buds that are to bloom. 
Nor have we reach'd, as yet, the golden noon 
Of life's anticipated joys. We deem 
For us there flows a richly freighted stream. 

16 



242 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

"These brilliant scenes which now do us surround 
Unto our happiness should be a crown. 

" I know you never thought that I to you 
Did in m}^ lightest moments prove untrue. 
Borne by a stronger power o'er seas away, 
What misery was mine on that sad day ! 
No doubt that eve my absence gave you woe, 
But of my agony you cannot know ; 
And I would never have you, if you could, 
'T would only serve to curdle your life's blood. 

"Those who pronounced me false had never weigh'd 

Your claim on me, or knew how deep it laid. 

Your form was with me every trying hour 

And held above me a mysterious power. 

Which led me on — forever on to good, 

In an unerring way — not understood ; 

Till by strange fortune, we have strangely met. 

In this strange way, which we can ne'er forget. 

"Let 's consecrate our life's most sacred vow. 
By joining hand in wedlock, here and now. 
And let this gazing throng a witness be 
Of our devotion and sincerity ; 
To which we 've loyal been these many years, 
In spite of all surmises, doubts, and fears. 

"And why, my Euridice, should we delay. 
Since all of those who love from da}' to day. 



CANTO XVIII. 243 

From clay to clay grow old ? The arrow flies 
Nor leaves a trace behind upon the skies — 
No not a trace to show where it has been, 
So fly our lives — they vanish in the wind. 

"Then let endearing wedlock be our lot, 
That some may be to tell when we are not 
What we have been." 

He said, and gave a look 
So full it would have fill'd an ample book 
Whose title was, "In You I Do Confide." 
To which his heavenly Euridice replied, 
"To you my hand, my heart, my all I yield. 
And strew my life's events upon your field. 
Looking to you to be my Sword and Shield." 

Thus these blood sisters of a royal line 
Unknowingly these soul-bred brothers bind 
With sacred bonds of matrimonial kind. 
Which stretch away and strengthen every hour. 
Till endless life is added to its power. 

These scenes of bliss uuveilM, let's leave awhile 
For these to feel and bask in beauty's smile. 



CANTO XIX. 



Our attention is drawn to the pirate island, which we left to 
follow Hepaora and LaPold, concerning whose disappearance 
various conjectures arise, but none are correct, and all fall short 
of the real facts. All hopes of finding them are given up. Never- 
yield is appointed leader in Hepnora's place. While once gathered 
in counsel, Neveryield tells them boldly to cease doing wrong and 
turn away from sin, and to send an envoy to foreign lands to see 
what can be dene for their case. This is put to vote and unani- 
mously carried. Pleabrook rises, makes a speech, and proposes 
to send Neveryield, and tells what he could say. Suddenly a 
voice cries out, "See there! See there!" All look the way he 
points across the bay to the outlet, and see a great ship of war 
entering. She touches the dock, and there stops still while the 
wavelets she has caused wash the shore. All look upon this ship 
with surprise ; but are still more surprised wlien they behold 
Hepnora spring from the vessel and walk upon the wharf, having 
command of both forces by sea and land. All run to his embrace, 
and clasp his hands, in tears expressing their love and confidence. 
Hepnora asks them all to take theii' seats, which they do, when 
he makes them a speech and tells them where he has been, and 
what done for them, and that he has been sent here for their good, 
and asks them to all come to his country, which is holding out 
both its hands to them. Pleabrook answers and by vote all accept 
the offer with thanks. Pleabrook with much emotion then sits 
down, and canto ends. 

Behold the island which we left behind 
And its possessors of such different minds, 
Who long had sought, but sought in vain, to jQnd 
[244] . 





Behold the island which we left behind 
And its possessors of such different minds. 



[ See page 344.] 



CANTO XIX. 245 

Hepnora and La Pold. To tliem, now lost, 
And strangely^ from their sea-surrounded coast. 

Their flight unknown, most strange conjectures rise 
About tlieir absence, giving many wlijs ; 
And on the whole they vaguely theorize, 
Yet of the truth no one has least surmise. 

So every theory is short of fact. 
About which men conjecture this or that, — 
Such as the stratas of the earth, how made, 
The truth reveaPd would put the whole to shade. 

And so about the hand which on the wall 
Once wrote in old Belshazzar''s mystic hall,— 
The real truth would stand above them all. 
As the eternal, dazzling king of day 
Is brighter than the lamp which flits away ; 
So here, conjectures on conjectures rose, 
And no one did the real truth disclose. 

Each nook was search'd, and all was given o'er ; 
They said, "Most sure Hepnora is no more. 
And the young captive, too, is surely dead. 
And lies unknown somewhere on ocean's bed." 
And all with one consent gave Neveryield 
Hepnora's place to fill, his power to wield. 

Old time sped on as it doth always speed 
When every moment brings some pressing need, 



24:C> LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

While these oft counsel'd what they were to do, 
What line of policy they should pursue. 

Wliile gathered thus in counsel on a day, 

Where tliey could view their little, handsome bay. 

Pale Neveryield arose, and thus did say : 

"Boldly I speak, let come what will, 

I was not born to plunder, rob, or kill. 

I would not wrench from any one his gain, 

Though unattended with the slightest pain. 

Nor will I stain these hands with blood and crime, 

My father stain'd not his, I will not mine. 

"Then it steeps down to this. What shall we do ? 

This I 've revolved in mind, and held to view 

In almost every light. And from within, 

A voice is heard abov^e the general din, 

' Cease to do wrong, and turn away from sin.' 

"I have resolved within my heart on what, 

I do not think you'll say that we should not, — 

To send an envoy to some foreign land 

Whose power and wealth an influence wide command ; 

Before that land to lay our wretched case, 

And plead for pardon for our suffering race. 

That envoy should be free from guilt and crime, 

That innocence might with his pleadings chime. 

And that no person ill-disposed could bring 

Against his character a single thing. 



CANTO XIX. 247 

" In tliis jour good has been my constant aim, 
And my most secret thoughts you cannot blame. 

"Those who 're opposed to this long-though t-of plan, 
Let them arise." There stood up not a man, 
But silence wav'd o'er all its viewless shield. 
And every eye was fix'd on Neveryield. 

At length Pleabrook arose, whose stalwart form 
Look'd like a tower dismantled by the storm. 
He for his strength and wisdom was renown 'd, 
And when he spoke, attention reign'd profound. 

Through him Hepnora had been leader made. 

Through him the same on Neveryield was laid. 

When great emergencies did him invoke. 

His was as if an oracle had spoke ; 

'Twas he who brought and gave these captives arms 

When the whole isle was shaken with alarms. 

Slowly he rose, on him all ej^es were bent, 

As well they knew he said just what he meant ; 

And when he stood erect, at length began : 

" I rise not to oppose this well-laid plan, 

But rather to approve. What course to take 

I knew, but fear'd to make the break, 

Lest I should give expression in one breath. 

And in the next meet clamoring, clanging Death. 

" But I have felt, since that decisive fight, 

That there the tide had turned. Then broke to siffht 



248 LA POLD AND EURIDICE, 

New principles. And henceforth I conkl see, 
Or thouyht I could, that each one sought to be 
From all impurities and guilt made free. 

"The world with whom we've war'd, let's war no 

more, 
But peace and pardon seek from every shore, 
By showing that the crying wrongs we 've done 
We have been forced to do, yes, every one. 
That those who forced us, sleep beneath the sands, 
Whose lives have been pluck'd out by our own hands ; 
Just retribution met them at the hour 
In which they sought our lives to feed their power ; 
And when they thought that death was on us cast. 
They justly met their own, and breathed their last. 

"How since that time no one by us has bled 

Nor a prize sought, though many chances had, 

And do n't forget to say that these vile hands 

Which forced these wrongs, lie cold beneath the sands, 

And what the world sought out to do, and fail'd, 

We very soon accomplished when assail'd. 

" And then they will consider well our plea. 
For we have slain the world's worst enemy, 
Our pardon will be had, if rightly asked, 
And I would trust to Neveryield the task. 

" The mem'ry of that fight wull ever live. 
Holding o'er all a great prerogative ; 



CANTO XIX. 249 

The things we saw and the transactions wrought, 
Will sip at the same board which feeds our thoughts. 

" I saw the scale in which that conflict hung. 

Ours was out-balanced, sure, and up it swung. 

The captives^ fate and ours in death were one, 

Without there could be something quickly done ; 

In desperation this thought rusli'd to mind, 

' Arm the cajytives ! ' I flew on wings of wind ; 

I knew right well wliere such arms could be found, 

For these I ran, not hardly touching ground ; 

I snatched them up in haste with both my hands, 

Then for the open air I quickly sprang, 

And in my earnestness most loudly cried, 

' Avun^ captives ! arm ! ' My voice swept island wide 

And reach'd the captives' ears. Forthwith they ran, 

Marching toward me swiftly, every man ; 

Their very pace and military air 

Did noble discipline and worth declare. 

" I knew if these were placed to our avail, 

Would more than balance down the wanting scale ; 

So, meeting them, I threw these irons down. 

And told them wliere our mutual wants were found, — 

How we should all be saved, should we succeed ; 

Should they, death was alike to all decreed. 

" Each seized his choice in arms with right good will, 
And shook those flashing blades with greatest skill. 
No time was to be lost. They form'd in line, 



250 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Hepnora at their side seem'd half divine. 
Swiftly they march'd, with discipline most true, 
As though they long had practiced how to do. 
They all kept pace, advancing side by side 
Like soldiers bred and trained, in hattle tried. 

"How proud I was of them, though none could view. 
Each seemVl a warrior born, a soldier true. 
On whom success would heap deserving due ; 
Who had sprung up to line, in trial's hour. 
To victory give wherever perchM their power. 

" Down to the fight they came, with bearing bold, 

With shout and clang of arms like soldiers old. 

The foe was terrified, and all was told ; 

Their ranks reeled back, death ruFd with sudden sway, 

And from the foe sweet life was snatch'd away ; 

So victory came to us on that great day. 

Eight had triumphed over wrong, and will. 

Lefs seek the right, and be triumphant still." 

Here suddenly another voice cried out, 
" See there ! See there ! " All present turned about 
And stretched their eyes across the little bay. 
Where to the sea was the known passage way. 

Some were with terror fill'd, all with surprif^e^ 
As they beheld before their vision rise 
A steamer armed, of a gigantic size. 
Pushing her steam in columns to the skies, 



CANTO XIX. 251 

While from her brazen sides great guns look'd out, 
As if in searcli of enemies about. 

Slowly she mov'd, a thing of strength and power, — 
Prepared to meet the requirements of the hour. 
The like before by these was never seen. 
Not even in the fancy of a dream ; 
Nor had these secret waters ever known 
Another ship than what these pirates own VI. 

Imagine what the excitement must have been 
To see what never they before had seen, — 
This mistress of the seas within this bay, 
Which gave scarce room enough for passage-way. 

Still on she came. The waves heap'd up before, 
And sent their wavelets out to every shore. 
As from her engine came the puffs of steam, 
She like some living sea-born monster seem'd. 
Exhaling steam and smoke as in some dream. 

Still on and on, right fearlessly she came. 

And seem'd self-willVl, a monster still untamed ; 

And as she puff'd, seemVl breathing steam and flame 

Which in a column rose, of vast extent, 

And propp'd the skies just where the zenith bent. 

She fearless push'd along close to the rock, 
Which by these pirates had been made a dock, 
And as she passM near to the pirate boat, 



252 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

The latter seemed as but a little mote, 

So much superior to^it was the size 

Of this great ship of war, the "Enterprise." 

She touclrd the wharf, and the proud ship stood still ; 
While wavelets running from her at their will, 
Wash'd every shore. She whistled loud and shrill, 
And echo answer'd from each rock and hill. 
The island shook before hor rumbling power, 
And hearts faiPd not to tremble in that hour. 
While terror and amazement seized the host 
Who were amid the wildest terror lost. 

They thought their fated hour had surely come, 
And this was rumbling out their final doom. 

Upon this ship was fix'd their wond'ring gaze 
(For very near this spot their seats were raised), 
As it was staid where theirs was wont to land. 
And a broad platform joinM it to the strand. 

But gi'eater still was their complete surprise, 
To see this walk'd before their face and eyes, 
By great Hepnora, ever just and wise. 

By him now here, was held supreme command. 
Of all these forces, both by sea and land. 
And both their destinies were in his hand, 
And his, in the Eternal God's unseen, 
Who studs the sky, and carpets earth in green. 



CANTO XIX. 253 

Majestically he walk'd that naked shore, 
Where sea and land commune forevermore, 
Cloth'd with superior strength and every grace, 
They saw, and knew, and ran to his embrace. 

Clasping his hands, in tears they warmly said, 
" Hepnora, dear, we all believed you dead. 
But now with joy we see you once again, 
Living and breathing with the sons of men. 

" We do believe you are our long-tried friend, 
And that your coming doth our good portend. 
When we first saw your ship of war appear. 
We trembled ; now, ' love casteth out all fear.' 

" We knew by what you prophesied that we 
Were to behold your bless'd discovery. 
And which we all are longing for to see." 
To whom Hepnora thus : 

"My long-tried friends. 
If such you are, please take your seats again." 
All sought at once the place from whence they rose. 
As but a little space did interpose. 

Soon all were seated the best way to hear, 
And in his grandeur stood Hepnora near. 
And thus began : 

" Friends of another hour, 
To you I have returned with love and power. 



254 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

" Your cause, which was mj own, tugged at my soul, 
And o'er my inner man had strange control. 
With pleading hands to me it ever cried, 
And it, though silent, would not be denied. 

"My country was indeed not slow to learn 
About my varied fortune and return. 
And that I had within me something brought, 
The which on leaving, surely I had not. 

"That something was an interest in you. 

To which I was most faithful, just, and true. 

It held a place above all other claims. 

In which were wreath'd your faces and your names. 

All these were imaged in the thinking soul, 

Forever whispering to me, ' Lo ! behold ! ' 

"Thus held to duty, I could but obey, 

And your whole cause before my country lay. 

Its rulers with attention heard, resolv'd 

That the whole thing should be by me evolved ; 

And ordered that their largest ship of war — 

Should then be plac'd into my hands therefor; 

Which ship was new, now also should be tried, 

To learn her power the roughen'd sea to ride. 

"Selected was my crew to suit my will, 
Each one adapted for his place to fill, 
And all renowned for war and naval skill. 



CANTO XIX. 255 

"All tilings in place, likewise this ship of pride, 
With deep-moiith'd gnns out-looking at each side, 
Were now prepared o'er the great deep to ride. 

"Unloose her ropes, and launch her to the sea. 
Bearing her arms and men of bravery ; 
And far renown'd as the best mettle known. 
Our pride to view, and dread of foes to own. 

"A crowd of faces on th' adjacent shore. 
Witnessed this mighty ship of war unmoor, 

"Hail, glorious ship, much talk'd of 'Enterprise,' 

The out-come of the inventions of the wise ; 

You seem'd while on the water floating by 

Like some bright cloud snatclfd from the evening sky. 

Within whose folds fierce lightnings were asleep, 

Now being pillow'd on the mighty deep. 

" Now from her guns these lightnings seemed to leap. 
And deep-toned thunder shook that mighty deep. 
Then loud huzzas, like roarings of the seas. 
And thh acclaim rode on the passing breeze : 
' Long float the " Enterprise," our flag to wave. 
May God protect her, and his wisdom save.' 

"Then silence reign'd, and still our flag waved high, 
As if it said, ' We do our foes defy.' 

" Then from that people noble wishes came, 
Which breath'd out blessings on her honorM name. 



256 LA rOLD AND EURIDICE. 

" Still o'er the sea pusli'd on this ship of war, 
Till those loved shores show'd dimly from afar, 
Then turn'd our back to them, and sail'd away 
For this small island distant o'er the sea ; 
The which we found with ease without delay, 
And swung our ship into your little bay. 

"Come one ! come all ! if you yourselves would save, 
And I "11 conduct you o'er the boisterous wave. 
My country holds out open arms to you ; 
Come ye, and bid these bloody shores adieu ! " 

He said, and sat ; and then great Pleabrook rose, 
Who lov'd his friends and hated all his foes. 
And as he slowly moved, his bulky form 
Look'd like a cloud uphoven by the storm, 
His voice on ear like low-ton'd thunder broke. 
As opened he his mouth, and thus he spoke : — 

" Hepnora, loved, in this we do rejoice. 
To hear this offer in your much-loved voice ; 
For who would not forsake these scenes of woe. 
For scenes more peaceful ? Who ? — I do not know. 

" We just were counseling what we were to do, 
Believing both were dead, La Fold and you. 
And there decided we would make appeal 
To other lands for us, through Neveryield. 



' CANTO XIX. 257 

"While thus we counseled, and our ]>lans laid bare, 
Within our bay appeared your ship of war, 
Of great, gigantic size, a ponderous thing ; 
We did not know what was concealed within ; 
But thought some powerful enemy was there. 
Who had found out the secret place we were. 
And that the blood which we before had shed, 
Was soon to fall in vengeance on our heads. 



" Our hearts were in our throats ; we trembling stood, 
But O how changed was our distrustful mood. 
When from her brazen portals you outsprang. 
Your cherisliM form beloved by every man ; 
Your every move was on each memory press'd, 
And changed our trembling fear to happiness, 
O'erwhelmed with joy, forthwith we quickly rush'd. 
We seized your hands, and feelings deep outgushed. 
Tears of delight in floods came tumbling down. 
To know our lost Hepuora had been found. 



" I therefore move your offer we accept. 

With many thanks, and also with regrets ; 

Thanks that you have released us from these snares. 

Regrets that we have caus'd you anxious cares ; ' 

All those who favor this, let them arise." 

All stood erect, with intermingling cries, 

" We'll follow our Hepnora till he dies." 

17 



258 LA I'OLD AND EUKIDIUE. 

Continuing thus : " It is enough. All we 
With one consent and gladness do agree 
To follow you across the trackless sea, 
To your own land, land of the brave and free. 
Who reach to us the hand of sympathy." 
This said, with much emotion he sat down, 
When Neveryield arose and look'd around. 



CANTO XX. 

Neveryield standing up to speak, is now pjiler tlum ever. 
After looking into every eye, lie proceeds to speak, calling llieni 
friends in afflicti(ni, and tells them what Ilepiiora has done for 
them, and proposes to give him three cheers, whicli they do, so 
heartily that the whole island trembles. At these Hepnora smiles, 
as tliey bring a sense of pleasure. Neveryield continues, and tells 
Hepnora that all are willing to be led by him ; then bows, and 
takes the lowest seat. Hepnora rises and is again greeted witli 
cheers. He asks them to march out in single file with Pleabrook 
at tlieir head, leaving but a small space between them and the 
sliip, on which He[)nora walks and commands those in the war 
ship to file out in the same manner, which they do, leaving him 
between the two lines. At his command both lines advance, 
shake hands, mingle, and talk together. After awhile Hepnora 
tells them to proceed to vacate the island. Tliey all arise and 
])ass through the cave and are soon on the island, and proceed to 
gather up their valuables and to place them on the vessels. 
Various mementos are brought, and dusted uj). At sight of 
the curls from Hepnora's child, he falls upon the ground and 
soliloquizes upon them. Tells those present that these are locks 
from his boy, whom he had since seen saved by the power of 
prayer. When Hepnora sees the bleeding heart he has seen 
before, he, lying upon the ground, talks to it as to a friend, in a 
feeling manner. All seemingly had been brought out, and three 
men were sent to see if any had been overlooked. Thej^ find 
one hid away in a dark place, which they bring out and dust up. 
This, then, shows drunkenness in all of its phases, and shows it 
was designed to raise the fallen who had been cultured. Hepnora 
commands that all these should be loaded, and carried to the 

[259] 



260 LA FOLD AND EUKIDICE. 

ship. For the first time a load is drawn out. AH that are worth 
moving are placed by themselves, and afterward taken to the 
ships. The last load taken out is a load of cripples, who are put 
upon the vessels, and then the car and horses go aboard. All 
things completed, night settles in, and on board the vessels all 
wait for the morning, which soon appears. They then unmoor 
both vessels and pass forever from this sin-cursed shore. A fare- 
well to this island ends this canto. 



He who was alwa^^s pale, was paler now. 
With disappointment printed on his brow ; 
Yet his eyes shone with bright intelligence, 
And seein'd to swim in seas of eloquence, 
Sequestered 'mid the hills of common sense, 
Which never stood in need of a pretense. 
Silent he stood awhile with speaking looks 
Which told more truth than could be told by books. 
Each eye caught his, and his, caught every eye, 
Responsive each to each with sympathy. 
Which seem'd so full it needs must surely break, 
Then opened he his mouth, and thus he spake : — 

"My friends and brothers in affliction tried. 
Can we forget with whom we are allied ? 
Forget, when side by side we fought for life. 
In that most dreadful and uncertain strife? 
When God saw fit the victory us to give. 
And bid our foes expire and us to live ? 

" Hepnora, great, could not ; but in his breast, 
Gave us a place to hold and to possess. 



CANTO XX. 261 

Our claims with liim were never, never mute, 
Though others did their place hotly dispute. 

" Our cause he laid before his country's power, 
Which sends relief in this most needful hour. 
He comes with this, our sufferings to allay, 
And gives to us this doubly glorious day. 

'' What greater blessings have to man been given ? — 
Nowliere in course of time this side of heaven. 

" Just as we w^ere about to make this move, 
Came great Ilepnora with his unfeigned love. 
And broke the ice ; and cast away our fears. 
Let us now give him three long, rousing cheers." 

They all at once arose with one consent, 

And cheer on cheer over this people went ; 

And when their echoes died upon the ear. 

From every rock and hillside far and near, 

Three deep-mouth\l guns belch'd forth with deafening 

roar. 
Which shook the rocky isle from shore to shore, 
And made this bay to tremble just as you 
Have seen the breezes stir a drop of dew. 

Hepnora smiPd for pleasure deep within ; 
Such tokens of respect were much to him. 

So when we strive some giant good to gain 
For others costing sacrifice and pain. 



262 , LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Some token of appreciation shown, 
Doth well repay us for full many a groan. 

Our great Hepnora felt this pleasure now, 

Which hung a smile about his noble brow, 

Like a fair cloud upon the spotless sky. 

Which doth the rainbow's loveliness outvie 

This wrought a noble impulse in each soul, 

Holding their rougher natures in control. 

And binding heart to heart, most strange and droll. 

When Neveryield continued thus : 

" In great Hepnora let us place our trust, 

He ever has right worthy proved, and will ; 

As we have heretofore, let 's trust him still. 

Who is not willing to confide in him 

Implicitly, whether we fail or win ? 

Let him speak out. I pause to be inform'd," 

Still silence reignM, profound and unadorned. 

Which was, by Neveryield's continuing, broke, 

As he the fullness of his soul outspoke : — ■ 

" I see your faces, and in them have read 
That by him all are willing to be led, 
And so am I. Command us as you will, 
Hepnora, loved, and we're obedient still." 

He said, and bowing low, took the lowest seat, 
When great Hepnora rose. Always discreet, 
He was the more so now. Mildness divine 
Upon his visage seem'd to nobly shine. 



CANTO XX. 263 

Repeated were those clieers, by cannons voiced, 
Loudly proclaiming, "We are much rejoiced ! " 

With noble grace, and with uncovered head, 
Hepnora bow'd acceptance, and then said : 
" All being willing, let us now proceed, 
March out in single file, and Pleabrook lead, 
Facing the ship at last, let all take heed." 

Forthwith they march'd, according to command, 
A lengthy line, outstretching o'er the strand ; 
And in their front was Pleabrook, sword in hand ; 
And farther on, the ship and bay were seen, 
With a small intervening space between ; 
And on this space Hepnora took command 
Of all the forces both by sea and land. 

This mighty ship of war it seemed just then 
Might have contained full twenty thousand men. 
Yet what their number was or might have been, 
Upon that ship no living soul was seen. 
As great Hepnora walked that space of ground, 
All gazed on him in wonderment profound. 

He first his eyes upon these outlaws cast, 
Then wandering fixed them on the ship at last ; 
Then said, "Come forth, you ministers of fate." 
Out march the crew at once, both small and great. 
In military style they lined the strand, 
Facing these outlaws, man opposed to man. 



264 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Between these lines Hepnora walked with pride, 
First one of them, and then the other eyed, 
Sending into each soul a look of flame. 
Which spoke of love and calTd each one by name. 
Then said : "My friends, so tried in each degree. 
Be to each other what you've been to me." 

Then at the word each line as though 't was one 
With gentle grace bow'd low. This being done 
Both lines advanced, with right extended hands ; 
First the leaders shake ; then both of their commands. 
And then together mix'd a mingled throng. 
Who talk about the days long since bygone ; 
Scenes which in youth in common they had known. 
Ere life's mixed cares had been about them thrown. 

In groups and pairs they sit and chat. 

About which most concerned them, this or that. 

But listening, one chief thing you might have learned, 

Hepnora's disappearance and return. 

And thus they mix'd and bygone scenes recalled. 

When youthful pleasures had not been forestalled, 

Here old friends met, and yet they knew it not, 

Only by circumstances most forgot. 

Which being told they were brought back again 

To know each other both by face and name. 

Time had roll'd on, and in its wheel 

Progress had hung her buckler and her shiekl ; 

And change had done its work, and swept away 



CANTO XX. 265 

Bright auburn locks, replacing them with gray ; 
And youthful faces, once so smooth and fair, 
Wore wrinkled looks, and furrow'd brows of care. 

Not only had these outlaws older grown, 
But also those who better things had known, 
Had been push'd down life's fitful stream as well, 
Had sensed its force, and felt its every swell. 

While thus in conversation all engaged, 

Like friends who had not met within an age, 

Hepnora rose, in statue great and grand, 

And in his much-loved voice, gave this command : — 

"Now all prepare these bloody scenes to leave. 
And all your treasures let the ships receive." 

And forthwith every man to duty rush'd, 

Form'd into ranks and through the cavern push'd ; 

For empty was its mouth at ebb of tide. 

And those who knew the way acted as guides. 

All enter'd in, and on the dismal way. 

The lights they bore made artificial day. 

Their many footsteps sent wild noises round. 

And from each room echo returned the sound. 

And those who ne'er before these scenes had known. 

In wild astonishment look'd wondering on. 

But soon they reach'd the scenes of open day, 
And to known duty all of them made way ; 



266 LA POLD AND EUEIDICE. 

And from the storeroom where the treasures were, 
Thej dust and bring them out to open air ; 
From shelves of stone, where they had been conceaPd 
For many years or but the half reveaPd, 
Which, dusted up and brought to open view, 
Sparkled with wealth and beauty all anew. 
Diamonds on silk spelPd out some name unknown, 
In strange device which still more strangely shone. 
Which spoke of loving hands in other days, 
While these devices uttered forth their praise. 

Here were mementos whose great cost and worth 
Had once been prized by those of noble birth ; 
Which all the wealth of earth could not have bought. 
So loved had been the hands which them had wrought. 

These from the owner had been wrench'd, with life. 
By a most bloody hand and cruel knife. 

Now, one by one was brought out to the light. 
And men with deep emotions trembled at the sight ; 
Those deep emotions dropp'd into each soul. 
From where great agitating waves did roll, 
Convulsed the inner man, and shook the whole, 

As one by one was dusted and brought out. 
And on the ground in order laid about ; 
And while these were review'd, lying around. 
Great tears from every eye came tumbling down, 
To think their rightful owners were no more, 
And those who made them on an unknown shore. 



CANTO XX. 267 

And when, perhaps, some one a witness bore 
To the same thing they oft had seen before. 
Now rendered donbly dear, he hjudly groan'd, 
And the sad, rightful owner's fate bemoan'd, — 
The fate of him he 'd known in days gone by ; 
Now cold and silent 'neath the soundless sea. 

Here bless'd mementos from some friend unknown 
To other friends, were carved on precious stone. 

They knew these to the bearer volumes breath'd, 
And mem'ry with most fond reflections wreath'd. 
But these by bloody hands were made a prey. 
Which from tlieir bodies tore these gauds away. 

But when those sunny curls were brought to light. 

Of great Hepnora's child, he caught the sight ; 

Then all his mighty powers were broken down, 

And his great person fell upon the ground, 

And child-like sobb'd and wept. He cried out then, 

" O my forever-lost and dearest friend. 

This, our love's token, to the death you bore. 

Which from your corse those ruthless villans tore. 

And heartless brought unto this cave of stone. 

Where it has lain neglected and alone. 

While your loved form sleeps in the deep unknown ; 

For you my very soul doth inward groan. 

'' But 'tis affirmed that I reveng'd your death, 

Did run your murderer through, and stopp'd his breath, 



268 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

In that fierce, not-to-be-forgotten fight, 

Where heinous wrong was vanquished by the right. 

" Sweet known Revenge, here now before me stand, 
I lick that villain's blood from thy right hand, 
And it relieves. While the one thought stands up, 
I made him drink his own most bitter cup. 
The very point which my companion slew 
I sent to his own heart, and pierced it through ; 
Writhing in pangs of death, he headlong fell 
Then rush'd his soul into the depths of hell, 
While my companion, though his death was given 
By villain hands, tasted the joys of heaven. 

" Bring me those locks, my ever dutious men 
[Soon they were brought and laid before him then]. 
These were my boy's, a portion of his hair, 
Since then I 've seen him saved by power of prayer. 

" When sickness hung about in thickest gloom, 
Pointing to death as his right early doom, 
Answer to prayer's most earnest plea was given, 
And he restored to health, this side of heaven. 
And I have learn'd to say, not that, ' We must,'' 
In life's dark hours, but that, ^ In God ^m trust.'' 

"Could these mementos speak, what would they tell? - 
Of sighs and tears and spurting bk)od as well. 
When loved ones wept, and when the noble fell ; 
Of when the scroll of fate, by time unroll'd, 



CANTO XX. 269 

RoveaPd those scenes, whose story has been told. 
From their dark tale our hearts would turn away, 
SickenM and paiu'd with anguish and dismay. 

Still were brought out the many treasures there, 

And dusted up, out in the open air. 

Full many gauds and gems of rare device 

Were laid upon the ground, in order nice. 

Which shone afresh with grand and speaking looks, 

And told more truth than could be told by books. 

But when was brought that ever-bleeding heart, 

Pierced through and torn by Cupid's quivering dart, 

Hepnora saw with grief, and knew it well. 

And said, " Would that you could your story tell ; 

'T would be a tale that would large volumes fill, 

Which being full would be unwritten still. 

My feelings weep in anguish and distress 

To see how much you speak of tenderness. 

What human hand, aided by gifts divine. 

Could cause you so to speak and so to shine ? 

"Could you give utterance to the sights you've seen. 

Relate the deeds to which you 've witness been, 

We would grow pale the awful tale to hear. 

And turn away abasli'd with trembling fear. 

You speak the praise of her who you designed. 

As worlds speak of their builder, the Divine. 

"The cause which call'd you forth, we vaguely guess. 
And why we see you here. And all the rest 



'JilO LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Is mystery dark as is the darkest niglit, 
And silence lends not e'en a glihi ring light. 

" O much expressing gift, pray tell me where 
The one doth live whose hands did you prepare ; 
And how died he, the loved one of that fair % 
Alas for us, you never can declare." 

He ceased to speak, while on the ground he lay, 
Where these mementos, brighter made the day. 
As these which had with greater skill been wrought 
Were from the half-lit, dusty cave room brought. 
Now dusted up, reveaPd their beauty more. 
As pearl and diamond their true beauty bore. 

These had been by the bearer's heart and eye 
Valued so much that money could not buy ; 
Each a remembrancer of days gone by, 
Or looks which fell from blushing beauty's eye. 

At length the cave was of these treasures clearM, 
And to their bringing out an end appearVl. 
While here no other place had such a store. 
And the inquiry was, " Are there no more ? " 

Three men were sent to search in every nook 
To see if any had been overlooked, 
At length was found one seeming hid away 
In a dark place where shone no trace of day. 
This was brought out, so covered up with dust, 



CANTO XX. 271 

That of its worth no one would least mistrust ; 
And as were brushed the cobwebs from its face, 
Where undisturbed for years they 'd had a place ; 
And as its beauty, brightenVl by the light, 
In all its fullness broke upon the sight, 
A strange bewilderment seized on the mind 
Of the beholder ; who could not be blind 
To many lessons taught or beauties shown. 
And yet not half of them were seen or known. 

There was a field cloth'd in autumnal hues, 
Touch'd as by inspiration from such views. 
Where colors blend and soften and unite. 
And fill with splendor the enraptured sight. 

These, like to nature, were sublimely quaint. 
None but most skillful hands could ever paint. 

Within this field a young man seem'd to walk, 
You'd listen for his steps, and for his talk ; 
Within his strong right hand he held a cup, 
Which seem'd with liquid beverage filPd up, 
And all that he could see was rosy wine. 
Yet deeper down a deadly serpent twined. 

Hard by, a maiden stood with pensive mien. 

And saw the serpent lurking deep within, 

Down on the bottom of that brimming cup. 

Whose contents this young man would fain drink up ; 

Yet her imploring looks said, "Do it not ; 

Death lurks within, of which you have not thought." 



97'^ 



LA FOLD AND EUEIDICE. 



The youth, obedient to the look she gave, 

Dash'd down the cup, and spillM the sparkling wave, 

Out roird that serpent with a hydra head, 

Thrust out its forked tongue now fiery red. 

Vibrated it and hissM. Away he fled, 

Grown to a monstrous thing with snaky folds, 

Behind the scenes half hid, he froth'd and rolFd. 

You raise the curtain, thinking him you '11 see. 
But you do not. Sweet, blest tranquillity 
And heavenly favors cluster all around. 
And stings of vice are nowhere to be found ; 
But scenes of joy were pictured here and there, 
In a domestic way and free from care. 
Stretching away, still fairer grew each scene, 
The brightest and the last a golden dream. 

You raise a curtain, thinking heaven you '11 view. 

But you do not ; I '11 tell you what you do ; 

This self-same serpent, now to monster grown, 

Scrawling along through foliage thick among, 

Half seen through leaves his length seem'd scrawl'd 

along. 
On which were snaky folds and hateful prongs, 
Thick-set with scales and many slimy things. 
These were young nerpents^ those^ pernicious stings. 

And then that hydra head, who can describe, 
Though Pollocks aid him, and though Miltons guide. 
Malicious lightnings lurk'd within its eyes. 




Stretching away still fairer grew each scene, 
The brightest and the last a golden dream. 

[Seu page :J~2] 



CANTO XX. 273 

And shot around a thousand deadly dyes ; 
Its mouth, as ^Etna's crater, open'd wide. 
In which to slake his thirst flow VI the full tide 
Of ardent drink from all the world beside. 

Lured hither by their cravings, millions came, 
And droppVl into this flood their own good name, 
And then themselves. You listen for the splash, 
While recklessly they sink to ruin rash. 

Far out it thrust a thousand-forked tongue, 
And on each fork a human being hung, 
Pierced through the very soul, gasping for breath, 
And writhing in the agonies of death. 

You stand amazed, desiring much to know 
What can this heinous monster be. When lo ! 
You read in characters of blood yet red, 
"I am Intemperance Leading to the Dead.'''' 

Hard by stood Wisdom with a blazing wand, 
Beck'ning away each onward coming man ; 
And oft some wanderer was turn'd aside. 
And in the Christian faith made to abide. 

Yet at one gulp this beast forced thousands down, 
In spite of Wisdom and her anxious frown, 
Who ever strove each struggling wretch to save 
From plunging in this death-ward rushing wave. 
18 



274 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Though warnings ot't were given, and efforts made, 
Men paid no lieed, and never seem'd afraid. 
But armies came the catalogue to swell, 
Swiird down the drunkard's cup, and in they fell, 
Swept through the monster's throat into a hell. 

A youth sat by, of noble form and mien. 
Gifted of heaven, at least so it did xeem. 
And all that promised fair for future fame 
Was written on his character and name. 
His friends were many, his approvers more. 
And his fair form a garb of honor wore, 
While his strong head a crown of virtue bore. 
No slanderer's hand had dar'd that garb to soil. 
Or with a bolder hand that crown to spoil. 
Like the bright morning. star his reason shone, 
And charity and goodness were his own. 

Yet lured astray by this pernicious vile. 
He tasted of his cup, which seeni'd to smile, 
But drinking, swallow'd treachery and guile. 
Darkness closed in where once was shining day. 
And on each star of promise sat dismay, 
Which was repictured every now and then, 
These stars still paler growing at each scene. 
With pains and sorrows crowded in between ; 
While meager Poverty assum'd the reign, 
Aud drew along its ever wretched train, 
Leaving their footprints, Shame, eternal Shame. 



CANTO XX. 275 

Thej look'd, they pitied, and tlicy ^ave a sigh, 
And deep regrets touch'd all their sympathy. 

Still in this monster's power he strove in vain, 
He here seem'd held by fate's unyielding chain, 
And all his efforts seem'd of no avail, 
And what he thought was sure, was s^ire to fail, 
And no relief was found. The blackness of despair 
Was pictured on his mien, and everywhere ; 
And quite too late he read his ruin there. 

This costly token, wrought with skill so great 
That it appeared to draw the veil from fate, 
Had here secluded been for years from sight, 
As sunken ships in soundless ocean's night. 

In its construction this had been design'd, 

To save a falling man who was refin'd, 

And through these scenes to bring him back to light, 

Trusting in God and his eternal might. 

With this which had been given him to keep, 

And high resolves, he rode the restless deep. 

And said, "I will these resolutions keep, 

So help me, God." So thus he rode the sea 

With motives pure as any one's could be. 

That he might worthy prove of her whose mind 

Conceived for him this intricate design. 

That in this very way she him might show. 

That the inebriate's path leads but to woe. 



276 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And then he look'd it through and through, 
And saw each time some lesson tauglit anew. 

Meanwhile he built up castles huge and fair, 
For who has not built castles in the air ? 
Transient as evening sunbeams on the blue, 
Wliich in maturer years vanishVl like dew. 
And such were his, and no doubt higli and pure, 
A holj zeal to prompt him to endure 
And labor for the right. And saw his name 
High over all in characters of flame. 

Yet while he dream'd, there came these pirates bold, 
And cut away his body from the soul ; 
Plung'd his remains into the soundless sea. 
As from his grasp they snatch'd this mystery 
And bore it off, unconscious of its cost. 
And hid it here, as good as though 't were lost ; 
Now, brought to light, repeats its truths anew, 
As if itself had sought this interview. 

Above the waves of the forgotten past. 

These heads were reared, where they were witness'd 

last. 
And speak the language which they spoke before, 
Telling the self-same tale they told of yore, 
While living on the earth in strength and power. 
And in the grandeur of their proudest hour. 
So this, relit, did speak to these again. 
Of the traditions of degenerate men. 



CANTO XX. 277 

And to the gazer often said, " Beware 
Of the inebriate's cup, this hidden snare." 

Cursed be that hand which laid your bearer low. 
There is reserved for him eternal woe, 
And as he snatch'd you from that dying man, 
So shall be snatch'd from him all good to come." 

Then spake Hepnora, gifted like a god, 
"Let all these treasures on the ships be stow'd. 
Though light of weight, yet a most heavy load ; 
And each one counts a life, which has been lost, 
And these lie here as tokens of their cost." 

He ceased to speak, and in a feeling way, 
They took these treasures up from where they lay. 
And placed them on the car which oft before 
Had brought their ill-got gains in from the shore. 

Upon this wagon which they long had own'd. 

And how obtained by no one now was known. 

All these they loaded now with greatest care. 

And other treasures next to these held dear. 

And for the first a load was driven out. 

The horses, wondering, paused along the route ; 

But ever trusting, willing to obey, 

They by the driver urged, made good headway. 

And soon stood near the boats which anchored lay 

Beside the rock-built wharf within the bay ; 

And with dispatch these ships received a store 



278 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Of greater worth than they had e'er before. 

Then through the cave these men returned for more, 

Three times. Then for awhile their work was o'er, 

As the tide rising filPd the passage-way ; 

And then, as needs, there foHowM a delay, 

Waiting the ebb. Meanwhile all goods were brought, 

And heap'd in pile ; whatever they had thought 

Ought to be moved. Thus was searched out with care 

Whatever seem'd would transportation bear. 

And here determined whether it or not 

Should with them o'er the heaving deep be brought. 

Thus all was sifted, and by place and name 

Was found what things should go, and what remain. 

Then soon began the waters to recede. 
When this same car was loaded up with speed, 
That it might ready be for to pass through 
Whatever it was feasible to do. 

These ships received these trophies which before 
Had oft been kiss'd, and later, drench'd with gore. 

Load after load of these same goods were brought. 
And stowed upon the ships. And soon was wrought 
The work. These vessels held this plundered store, 
And left the island bare as the house floor. 
Save of a few, from which might be observed 
For what mean purpose this lone isle had served. 
And the last final load which was brought out 
Was that of helpless cripples, or about. 



OANTO XX. 279 

And the last things which were to go aboard 
Were ear and horses, not to be ignored. 

All was completed, and the day was gone. 
And all on board waited for coming dawn. 

Now night on noisless wings is flying o'er, 

Waving her sable plumes on every shore ; 

A thousand stars which twinkle hou\ above 

Kiss slumbering earth with whispers of their love, 

While these in slumbers wrapM most strangely dream 

Of native land, of mountain, vale, and stream. 

Soon coming morning streak'd the east with gray ; 

The sun stretched out the wings of coming day. 

The which extended hovered broad and wide, 

O'er this strange isle and o'er the boundless tide. 

This little band awoke, their slumbers o'er, 
Man'd both these ships, and both of them unmoor ; 
And pass'd forever from this sin-cursed shore. 
Left it behind, never to see it more. 

" Farewell, familiar isle, farewell for aye. 
Our only home amid the raging sea ; 
We '11 ne'er again your rocky face survey. 
Or walk your shores." So many sigh'd, as they 
Saw this lone isle in distance disappear. 
Where they had, ate and lodged year after year ; 
F(U' such our nature is, and love of home. 
However mean and humble it has grown. 



CANTO XXL 



The two ships bearing the pirates and their goods are pushed 
over the ocean by force of steam. An address to this two-sail 
fleet. These vessels fly over tlie ocean, with columns of steam 
reaching the skies. Great multitudes come to witness the bandits 
land. These are led here from various motives. The hews of 
their arrival quickly spreads through the town. All crowd to see 
them land. The ground from this harbor gently rises and thus 
spreads beyond the city. On this a great crowd assembles ; the 
hindermost looking over all the rest. The sublimity of this view 
while sailing into harbor. These vessels pause and whistle three 
times, and echoes answer from every rock and hill. These are 
answered by three cheers from this great crowd. Soon these 
vessels move shoreward and touch the dock. The crew march 
out to the sound of music. Close in front appears Hepnora, who 
is loudly cheered. He makes a speech, and strange emotions are 
felt in every breast. La Pold unexpectedly replies. And at his 
suggestion lioth parties approach and mingle together and talk. 
Each one tells his heart-felt story well. 



Pushed bv the power of steam's propelling force, 
These ships pursued a straight, uiiv^aried course 
For the fair land of great Hepnora's pride^ 
Which distant lay across the waters wide ; 
The well-known "Enterprise" taking the lead. 
And in the rear the vessel, famed for speed, 
With which the pirates had made dread the seas, 

[ 280 ] 



CANTO XXI. 281 

To every sail pushed by the passing breeze ; 
And borne on these there was the price of blood 
Now being wafted o'er the raging flood. 

Sweep on, sweep on, O little two-sail fleet. 

Across the rolling waters of the deep ; 

You seem unconscious of the load you bear, 

The last of piracy and lawless war ; 

Purged by themselves, they seek a higher life 

Of loved tranquillity instead of strife. 

O country by these outlaws once aggrieved. 

Open your ports ; by you be these received. 

They come, the less the wrongei-s than the wronged. 

Victims of crime, they did not crime prolong ; 

But in that dread, uncompromising fight, 

Vanquished the wrong and triumphed in the right. 

In this the haters of mankind were slain, 

Buried in piles which now bear not a name. 

They come, and great Hepnora, sponsor, stands 

For every wrong proceeding from their hand. 

No loftier souls did ever vessel bear. 

And better resolutions never were. 

And still these vessels o'er the ocean flew, 

Like two great seabirds just above the blue, 

Whose steam in lofty columns lifted high 

By winds was pushM aslant across the sky. 

Which, when compared with birds, seem'd necks of 

gray 
Searching for home across the watery way. 



282 LA POLD AND EURIDICE. 

So stretched the minds of those tliese vessels bore, 
Whose thoughts bent forward to their native shore, 
And in imagination did behold 
Their friends and native home as when of old. 

JNiglit after night, day after day Hew on. 

And land appeared as broke one morning dawn. 

From every part of this thick-settled land 
Great multitudes had come to be at hand 
To witness this banditti on the shore, 
Once dread of seas, but dreaded now no more. 

Parents who for an absent child had mourned. 
Had vainly watched for his look'd-for return ; 
Sisters who for fraternal love alone, 
A brother's absence wept, the cause unknown ; 

Maidens who once had blushed at love's warm tale. 
From weary waiting had grown sad and pale ; 
And then tlie curious to these scenes had come, 
Expecting something'they might feed upon. 
A crowd as motley as the heirs of fate 
Were in the city, small of size and great. 
And watching for these vessels day and night, 
Each anxious for to witness the first sight. 

Just as from ocean rose the king of day. 
One morning in the happy month of Ma}^ 
These ships appeared, incoming from the sea. 



CANTO XXI. 283 

"Tliej come! they come!" was through this city 

spi'ead, 
Like light electric from the fountain head, 
And soon the sound of busy life was there, 
And hum of voices on the morning air ; 
And busy feet were pushing for the shore, 
While restless eyes look'd the wide waters o'er. 

From this fam'd harbor gently rose the ground, 
And thus ascending stretchM beyond the town ; 
On this, now crowds of anxious people rose, 
Faces above briglit faces were disclosed, 
As they in ranks together closely pressed. 
The hindmost looking^ over all the rest. 

This view was fraught somewhat with the sublime, 
As taken in by these this morning's prime, 
As winding shore, old ocean, ships, and bay. 
Basking in early light before them lay. 

The waters smooth made perfect imagery, 
Two ships seemVl moving just beneath the sea. 
Touched by two ships above. From these ascend 
Columns of steam, seeming without an end. 
And as the real ones in grandeur rose 
The imaged reach'd beneath, each one opposed 
To each. The real seem'd to meet above. 
So those beneath, and both embraced in love. 

As shoreward moved this isolated band, 

Who had been long estranged from native land, 



284 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

Had iiiiaccustom'd grown to gaze on crowds, 
Now looked on this, awe-struck as well as proud. 

Their vessels pausM and with three whistles shrill, 

Shook the long shore ; while echoed every hill ; 

In answer to those whistles loud and long, 

Three cheers were given by this shore-lined throng, 

Which miles away, witness'd by human ears. 

Told without doubt what strength there was in cheers, 

Which, as they rolPd their burtlien on the breeze, 

Seem'd like loud roarings of the distant seas. 

About those heart-throes, then, O who can tell ? 

Of those on land and on the ship as well. 

As now before their minds in silence came 

Love's long enduring now rekindled flame. 

And mem'ry spoke again some loved one's name. 

Then through each soul would roll the ponderous car 

Of deep anxiety, and set ajar 

The strings of life. Then questions oft would come, 

" Shall I now meet the loved and cherished one. 

Right here and now ? " Then Fear with Faith did war. 

And drove from side to side this jwiid'' rous car, 

Hurling the missiles of continual doubt. 

Faith charges back with hope, and puts to rout 

The phalanxes of Fear. Trembling they yield 

And leave to Faith the well-contested field. 

Meanwhile these voiceless vessels shoreward moved. 
The ocean smiled, and tranquil heaven approved. 



CANTO XXI. 285 

Still saiPd these ships, unconscious of their load, 
And o'er the waters lightly, swiftly rode. 

Now many new-born hopes full-fledged arose, 
Bright as the brightest summer evening's close. 
Could these as matter now for once be weighed 
They'd sink these vessels to the deepest shade ; 
But now unconscious of the load they bore. 
They pressM the dock upon that winding shore. 
Which they had sought with dispatch and with care, 
And here were moor'd in the bright morning air. 

Timed by the flute and martial music's swell, 
The crew kept pace, marched out in order well. 
All eyes were fixed upon them from the crowds. 
Which here had gathered as for storms the clouds. 

And soon amid the wildest shouts and cheers. 
Close in their front Hepnora did appear. 
Between the few near sea and crowds on land ; 
Conscious of duty done, he doth demand 
For him within all hearts should overflow ; 
The new arrived with heads made bare bowM low. 
Upon his left the crew, the pardon'd ones, 
And on his right the crowd which here had come 
From every quarter from the hills among. 

First looking unto these, he thus began. 
While looking in the eye of every man : 
'' The things about transpiring, who can tell? 



286 LA FOLD AND EDRIDICE. 

Big with events the passing moments swell, 
Groaning beneath their load. This doth excel 
That of their predecessoi's far and near, 
Those of the night or day, or any year. 
Friends on my right and left, give ear, 
Behold I ever stand between you here. 

"Those were in bright prosperity my pride. 
These are my friends in sore affliction, tried ; 
Be to eacli other what my hands have been — 
Helping each other — both the help of men. 

"Perhaps in mingling in familiar ways 

You may find out some friend of other days. 

Whom you thought dead ; but now have hither come 

To fill unfeign'd affection's inmost room, 

Instead of what you thought they fiUM — the tomb." 

He ceasM to speak, yet through his bosom roll'd 
Most strange emotions, better felt than told. 
When unexpectedly replied La Fold : — 

" Trusted Hepnora, we confide in you. 

So often tried and proved as often true. 

Our faith we have in you now knows no doubt ; 

By you this great event was brought about. 

And these deserving of salvation saved. 

We welcome you who has so much outbraved. 

As gold purged from the dross, — purged in that fight 

Where bloody wrong was vanquished by the right ; 



CANTO XXI. 287 

With faithful arms we '11 them from harm defend, 
Knowing Hepnora would not be tlieir friend 
Did he not know he could on them depend. 

''Parents have hoped with these some cliild to find, 

Whose loss with sorrow had long gloomM their minds ; 

Sisters, some brother, who by absence long. 

Has caused them much anxiety and strong ; 

And maidens, too, have, longing, hoped to meet 

Some lover forced into that lone retreat ; 

Now brought to light, might gladly feel again. 

The touch of love's warm hand, thrillM with its flame. 

All these in great anxiety await. 

Longing to read the hidden book of fate. 

" Remove this space which now is left between, 
And mutual, mingle in one common scene." 

With much excitement upon either side 
They both approach to know what doth abide ; 
They mingle, and with glowing pathos tell. 
Each one to each, his heart-felt story well. 



CANTO XXII. 



Outlaws and citizens all mingling, tell with jiathos their dif- 
ferent stories. Parents find sons, sisters, brothers, and lovers find 
lovers. But Neveryield and one unknown woman both weep, and 
none know the reason why. This woman is found to Ije his 
former love with whom he had corresponded. She makes con- 
fession, but he had long since forgiven all, and both swear alle- 
giance to each other, and are joined in wedlock. Meanwhile 
other scenes of equal importance are taking place in other parts. 
And all these outlaws by different ones are invited to their 
homes. Hepnora, wife, and child, Neveryield and bride, meet at 
the mansion of La Pold and wife. These three brothers tried in 
affliction, marry sisters, and are made brothers of blood. One 
half of them having joined in friendship's league, the other half 
are invited to share the same bonds, and as a prelude all join 
hands and sing of the sweets of friendship, and with solemn vows 
and prayers all are enfolded by it. Soon these buds of friendship 
are swelled to a flower, and look away to everlasting day. 

O then the eloquence from fervor'd lips 
Was sweeter than the nectar Juno sips. 

Parents whose steps were wending to the tomb, 
Found with great joy, to them some long-lost son ; 
And sisters, now and then, a brother, who 
Heal'd as by touch the wound their bosoms knew ; 
And long desponding maidens strange and droll, 
Refelt that kiss which they had felt of old, 

[388] 



CANTO XXII. 289 

By love's warm lips upon their brows, reseaFd ; 

But sad and quiet wept our Neveryield, 

And one as sad wept tears which would not dry, 

Great tears which fell in floods, and none knew M^iy ; 

And as she, weeping, stood, two men pass'd by, 

And said, "What has in you this weeping caused?" 

And wondering for an answer shortly paused — 

"So weeps our Neveryield, and none can tell 

What giant sorrow doth his bosom swell.'" 

Her very looks astonishment reveal'd ; 

Surprised, she said, " And who is Neveryield ? " 

They said, "Our leader, noble and genteel." 

She thus : " And is he here ? and, if so, where ? " 
Then they : " See yonder youth so pale and spare, 
Who lost in contemplation, mutely stands. 
And with his falling tears moistens the sands ? 

Then she : " I see, and him I 've deeply wronged. 
For which I have been lash'd with vengeful thongs, 
Of husband, home, of everything bereft. 
Thus harassed, weeping, I alone am left ; 
And I must tell him all without mistake, 
The many things I 've suffered for his sake. 
Who loved me better than his tongue could tell, 
Which love, because 't was deep, I lightly held. 

"With* solemn vows he pledg'd his love to me, 
Which I, deriding, held evasively, 

19 



2'JO LA POLD AND EURIDIOE. 

While one less worthy, on a slight pretense, 
I welcomed, like a woman wanting sense. 

''Then what a life I lived ! Gloom and despair 

MockVl at my emptiness from everywhere ; 

To be a faithful wife I vainly tried. 

My utter emptiness I could not hide ; 

The gauzy covering was my selfish pride, 

My wedded spouse saw this, sickened, and died. 

" And I was left for what ? O who can say I 

My soul to mockery was made a prey. 

Ay, emptiness still worse and worse now grew, 

And smoking fire-bi-ands ever on me threw. 

Which hissM and bubbled in my curdled blood, 

While steam and smoke hung o'er the crimson flood. 

Where shall I turn ? O Heaven, tell me where ! 

lead me to this youth ; let him declare."" 

They then her weeping led along the field 
Where near by stood our pensive Neveryield ; 
When, unobserved by him, she thus began : 
"■ O ever patient, tried, and much-wronged man. 
For deeds misdone I pardon ask of you. 
For to recall the past, no one can do." 

Pale Neveryield look'd up, and thus replied : 
"Say on, my once deep loved and cherished bride ; 

1 never thought again to hear you speak, 
And is it me, neglected me, you seek ? " 



CANTO XXII. 291 

'"Tis you, I seek,'' she said; "my liarassed soul 
Prompts me to this, and bids my tongue be bold. 
Great is the change indeed since we last met ; 
The fierce, avenging winds of deep regret, 
Blasting all peace have through my bosom swept ; 
Their bowlings still re-echo in my soul, 
I strive and vainly strive to self-control. 

" That hope within, once blooming fair and free. 
Has doffed its plumes, and now, a naked tree, 
Waves o'er my dreary heart, and in each blast 
Moans o'er the wasting ruins of the past. 

"Of every comfort, every joy bereft, 

A poor and aching heart alone is left. 

In which no genial breeze can there find room, 

To usher other blossoms into bloom. 

"I only show you this that you may know 

I did not merit what you did bestow. 

And that my life through wounds made in the mind, 

Is spinning out into a winter's wind. 

O say you do forgive, and let me die ! " 

" O say not thus," was Neveryield's reply, 

"Long, long ago I have forgiven all. 

And blessed the thoughtless hand which made me fall. 

And that strange voice which sang the requiem song 

Of all my joys, your praises did prolong. 



292 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"In your own self I have forgiven all, 

And for your sake have drunk the dregs of gall. 

To every hope long since I 've bid adieu, 

While every rising thought perfected you ; 

In this perfection you before me rose. 

And in sweet innocence conquered your foes. 

For slighted love or slighted sacrifice, 

I blamed you not. With me you had no vice. 

E'en when you scorned me and another wed, 

It is your will, and be it so, I said ; 

And though it dealt to me a fatal woe, 

I could but kiss the hand which gave the blow ; 

And if you scorned the treasures of my soul, 

I knew your lips would press some empty bowl. 

" But why speak of the miseries of the past, 
Which has such gloomy clouds about us cast, 
When all the future is as bright and fair, 
As the first rosy tints of morning air ? 

" Come near me, dearest, let me hear you say 
You will return my love, and night gives way, 
And blushing morn develops into day." 

He paused, then stretching out his hand, he said, 

" Come forth, once cruel and long cherished maid!" 

She placed her hand in his in silent grief, 
And said : " I am a sear and withered leaf, 
Unworthy of your slightest trust or care ; 



CANTO XXII. 293 

Injustice shown to you has stripM me bare, — 
And I'm a wreck on life's inclement sea, 
Lost to all good, and worthy not of thee."" 

" Worthy or not, we 're here just as we are," 
He said ; '' remorse can never change a hair ; 
We both have felt the iron of despair. 
Let's o'er the chasm of the past join hands. 
Trusting in God ; and with good-will to man, 
In the fair future do the best we can." 

She, blushing, answered mildly, very low, 
" If such be yours, be it my will also ; 
And may my follies past serve me to show 
What true regard on love I should bestow." 

"Then here" said he, "in sight of spotless heaven, 

Of land and sea, and crowds from both be given 

Our hands in wedlock for all coming life ; 

All these bear witness that we're man and wife." 

" So witness we," with dignity said one, 

■'And what the Lord has joined let none disjoin." 

' Twas done, and pleasure bent a smile on all, 
,And joy from gloomy faces snatched the pall. 
Meanwhile in other parts were other scenes. 
Where realized indeed were fondest dreams, 
Where reunited were life's sacred ties, 
And friend met friend with joy and sweet surprise. 



294 LA FOLD AND EDRIDICE. 

Enjoyment with magnificence and pride, 

With splendor new shone out ; and wouh:l not hide. 

Where but as yesterday were woe and gh)oni, 
Pleasures to-day were swell'd with buds of bloom. 

Here parents tasted of a holy joy, 

In seeing once again their long-lost boy. 

Dear sisters, too, that spotless pleasure knew, 
When they a long-lost brother's presence view ; 
And maidens felt that rapture full and sweet 
When unexpected, they their lo\"ers meet. 
But time rolPd on, and this eventful day. 
And this important throng both pass'd away. 

And thus this crowd broke up, and be it known 
Each new arriv'd found precious friends to own, 
And with those friends they were invited home, 
Where hours wei-e sweetly spent, and each did tell 
What he had witnessed and remembered well. 
On which I 've dwelt, and will no longer dwell. 

This day, full many a broken heart was heal'd, 
And broken home by some dear one reseaPd, 
Who imexpectedly had now returned. 
And fiird the vacant place. 

As if adjourn'd. 
In groops this congregation wandered out. 
And telling scenes they 'd witnessed, talk'd about. 



CANTO XXII. 295 

And at the mansion of La Pold 
There was a gathering strange and unforetold ; 
Hepnora, with his wife and child, were there, 
And Neverjield and bride, a strange-nuide pair, 
By much experience somewhat wiser grown, 
And many passM mistakes willing to own. 

Hearts once cemented by affliction's power, 
And tried in connnon danger's awful hour. 
Can never be estranged. Nor ccnild these three, 
Who had known dangers of a marked degree. 
Which they 'd in common felt, in common borne. 
And all their hearts by common pangs been torn ; 
Now warm'd toward each other more and more. 
As they in different ways liad met before. 
And for these reasons were as brothers tried. 
In these strange ways. Therefore they did confide 
In one another, feeling strangely warm, 
Wishing to shield each other from all harm. 

Here was Hepnora, one of humankind. 
Possessing strength and gentleness of mind. 
Before whose flashing eye the bravest quaiPd, 
While lie was first to hear a child that waiTd ; 
Here in his manhood stood our young La Pold, 
Possessing less of mind but more of soul. 
Who ever was near to the throne of grace. 
Which shone within his eyes, and on his face ; 
And here was pale-faced Open Neveryield, 
In whom unspoken volumes were concealed ; 



296 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

And when he spake, those volumes would roll out, 
And from the field chase cavil, fear, and doubt. 

These three were brothers in affliction tried, 

With characters and gifts diversified ; 

Whose wives were blood-born sisters widely known • 

And 'round these brothers they had strangely thrown 

The chain of wedlock, binding them anew 

With ties more perfect and with bonds more true ; 

Cemented by experience found in grief, 

Now to each other rendered sweet relief. 

And here they met, commun'd, and here partook, 
The joy of confidence seen in each look ; 
Bound by more sacred bonds they now could feel 
What pleasures sweet blood brotherhood could yield. 
While these fond sisters could with gladness say, 
" We''ve brought about these blessings of to-day." 

And as in friendship's league one half had joined. 
The other half should share the sacred bond. 
So while sweet concourse went its happy round. 
Rehearsing what each one had lost and found, 
Hepnora, as by inspiration, spoke : — 

"Dear relatives, what doth these hours invoke? 
We three have in the bond of friendship joined, 
More firm than wedlock, reaching out beyond 
All kindred ties. It in its measure holds 
Our own wellrbeing, plus the wealth of souls, 



CANTO XXII. 297 

And since by it we have been so much bless'd, 
We would extend it unto you, the rest. 

" We wlio in the sight of Heaven comprise this league, 
Stand up." These friends arose, without intrigue ; 
These three rose up as helped by hand unknown, 
And stood erect — their faces fairly shone. 
Their hearts were all retouch'd with sacred trust, 
And kindred looks went round, as needs they must. 

All these were known and registered in heaven ; 
At sight there was an inspiration given 
Which through the others sent electric fire. 
Enkindling in each heart a strong desire 
To join at once this confidential trust, 
And share its benefits both pure and just. 

Observing this, our great Hepnora said, 
"Come on, you three, and give your friendly aid." 
They rose and forni'd in one unbroken ring. 
By joining hands, and thus did sweetly sing : — 

SONG. 

" How sweet is friendship's sacred lot. 
Where sordid feelings harbor not.. 
To feel that we are unforgot 

By those we deeply love. 
"And though unheeding oceans roar, 
Twixt us and those whom we adore. 
To hope that when life's journey 's o'er, 

We shall all meet above. 



298 LA FOLD AND EURIDICE. 

"And though this world pays us no heed, 

For joys, or woes, or worthy deed. 

To know we've friends, whose hearts would bleed, 

For every wrong we feel ; 
And who would dare to, old or young. 
Reprove a lie from Envy's tongue, 
Which miffht about our names be flune*. 

And strive those wounds to heal. 

"To think when fortune proves unkind, 
Destroys our comfort, peace of mind, 
That soothers of our cares we '11 find 

In those whom we admire ; 
To feel when sunk in illness deep, 
Or wrapped in death's eternal sleep, 
That there are those who then will weep 

For friendship's sacred fire. 

" And while we've earthly friends most dear, 
Who with us smile or drop a tear. 
There is a Friend our souls revere. 

Whom over all we laud : 
Who knows our every joy and woe, 
To whom we can in secret go, 
And who to hear us is not slow, — 

That precious friend is God." 

They paused, and echo in each bosom rung, 
Vibrating in the vital strings among. 
When thus Hepnora : "If tliese we 'd shai-e. 
We needs must seek them out by earnest prayer. 



CANTO XXII. 299 

''In this most liigblj gifted is La Pold, 

And when lie prays, there comes to every soul 

A strange sensation, just as strangely given ; 

From a mysterious source — perhaps from heaven. 

Do we not now that strange sensation feel 

Which through our senses just as strangely steals? 

And while we do, let 's on this carpet kneel, 

And let La Pold to Heaven make appeal. 

They clasp'd their hands, forming a perfect ring. 

And humbly knelt before the King of kings. 

All hearts were lifted up, and bent each knee. 
While thus La Pold implored the Deity : 
"O thou Eternal One, who doth survey 
All things at all times, both night and day. 
Who oft hath heard our plea in times gone by, 
And sent such answers we could not deny. 
Vouchsafe to-day to hear our humble prayer. 
While we our earnest hearts to thee lay bare. 

"Bind us with friendship's ever sacred bands, 
And clasp our hearts as now are clasped our hands, 
And on the clasp imprint thy holy seal, 
Inviolable to us, through woe and weal ; 
And what to one another vowVl have we, 
May like vows fasten on these other three, 
And may our hearts cemented be as one. 
To truly feel and say, ' Thy will be done.' " 

He ceased to speak, and silence reigned profound. 
While they still knelt, as though they were spellbound, 



300 LA FOLD AND EUEIDICE. 

And all their souls went up in silent prayer, 
And Heaven's will was being written there 
Upon their own, and sanctified to good, 
Which taught them how to do just as they should. 

They rose and felt the presence of that Power 
Who sits supreme ; and at that verj hour 
Swelled their fair buds of friendship to a flower, 
Which shed a fragrance o'er life's narrow way. 
Pointing to happiness and endless day. 



